We Were All Kids Once
by sass-mistress-lucifer
Summary: So maybe kid heroes was all Batman's fault. He was the one to start this whole shenanigans off with Robin after all. But everyone else definitely wasn't supposed to follow his lead. Ever. This is a series of stories about how kid heroes came to be, and their subsequent misadventures, meetings and missions. Oh, and we can't be forgetting the kid villains, now can we?
1. A Bird Gets His Wings

**_Hey guys! I wrote this forever ago, but it's not bad so I figured I'd just post it…there a few chapters pre-written which I'll probably post just for the kicks, but after that…well who knows? Tell me if you enjoy and I'll try to upload the next one a bit faster than my usual three month gaps! (Sorry…)_**

Richard John Grayson had been suspicious of his new father figure for a while. Bruce Wayne, multi-billionaire and one of the richest men in the world was hiding something, and this nine year old was determined to figure out what. His…circumstances had forced the business man to make the young acrobat his ward nearly half a year ago, but unluckily for Bruce Wayne, Richard, or Dick as he was known, was a _really_ smart kid. Smart enough to notice Bruce disappearing nearly every night even after a full day's meetings, and coming back in the mornings with multiple minor injuries. And at nine years old he was of the right age to be curious enough, daring enough and possibly fool-hardy enough to be willing to do anything to uncover a secret.

So, this left Dick lying awake in bed one long night, half avoiding his nightmares and half plotting a way to uncover the secrets of the mysterious billionaire. He was on as wide alert as he could be for a nine year old up way past his bedtime. A click sounded down the hallway, followed by an almost silent whooshing noise. It was coming from…Bruce's office? Huh, figures, that was the only room in the entire mansion Dick was completely forbidden from entering, the only room that was ever locked. So, it was obviously the room he was most interested in.

Dick's eyes were closing sleepily, but he promised himself he'd find a way into that office in the morning. Wait, shoot! He had to go to school in the morning, he'd never have time to break into the office. Dick stifled a groan. Great, looks like if he wanted to know…whatever the secret was, he'd have to do something about it tonight.

Heavy steps thudded down the hallway, and paused outside his room. Dick rolled over and closed his eyes as his door opened slowly. He slowed his breathing until it sounded like he was asleep, a trick he'd always used to avoid being caught sneaking out with his friends from the circus when his mum came in to check on him. His breathing almost hitched at the though of his mother, but luckily for him Bruce sighed at that exact moment from the hallway. "Goodnight Dick." Even though he felt guilty for deceiving his benefactor and not replying, Dick wasn't _that_ sappy. Sometimes, to find the truth, you had to lie a little. Or a lot. Whatever.

He listened until he heard all of the noises from Bruce's room stop as the man fell asleep. Then he waited some more until he judged about ten or twenty minutes had passed, enough time for the utterly exhausted man to fall into a deep sleep. Hey, he didn't want to fall at the first hurdle because he couldn't wait a few minutes. He wasn't _eight_ after all.

As silently as he could he lifted one foot, and then the other, out of bed and onto the wooden floor of his room. He had lived in Wayne manor long enough to know which floorboards creaked and which doors squeaked loud enough to wake the dead, so he took great pains to avoid all of them. He padded silently towards the bedroom door and inched it open slowly. Dick consoled himself with the fact that if he was caught he could say he was up for a glass of water, even though that was pretty implausible due to the set of hairpins and paperclips in his hand. Well, he and the other boys from his circus had to have some fun after all, and Dick had always been the best at unlocking doors with his 'lock picks'. Hopefully he'd retained his skills in this new pampered life.

He crept down the shadowy hall, the lock picks digging into his palm as he clutched them far too tightly. Wayne Manor had always been a creepy old house, but in the middle of the night when he was doing something expressly forbidden? Let's just say his over-active imagination wasn't doing him any favours. After what felt like forever of tip-toeing down towards the office he finally reached the door. Casting a worried glance down the length of the hallway, he inserted his homemade picks into the lock and jiggled them around. A clicking noise echoed quietly from the lock. Smirking vampirically he turned his picks and the door swung open. Obviously Bruce hadn't been expecting his ward to have such secret naughty talents.

He took one last look at the closed door of Bruce's room before stepping into the forbidden room and closing the doors. No need to be even more obvious than he already was, right? Dick gazed around the forbidden room, slightly puzzled when all he saw was an ordinary study. Why hadn't he been allowed in here? He was nine years old after all, it's not like he was eight and was going to break anything.

C'mon, there had to be a reason other than boring old work that kept Bruce awake until three in the morning. How lame would that be? Totally not worth the risk he was taking. Then again, Bruce did take his work far too seriously in Dick's opinion, the man was a workaholic! All work and no play. But that theory didn't explain Bruce's mysterious injuries that appeared most mornings. There had to be something in here that explained them, something he wasn't meant to find. Why else would such a boring room be so strictly forbidden?

Dick slowly padded around the room, not wanting to miss any clues. He imagined he was Batman, the world's greatest detective, out on a case and hunting for leads. He rifled through the draws in the big old wooden desk, but all that was in there was some boring work papers and tech prototypes that he'd already seen. Unfortunately, there was no book labelled 'My Big Secret' in the desk, or on the bookcase either.

Next stop, the big old grandfather clock. Dick opened the case, but there was only a large golden pendulum swinging back and forth, nothing hidden in there. Something was off about the clock though. He took a step back and examined the clock more closely. Suddenly, it clicked! The pendulum was moving, but the clock hands weren't. Forcing down a cackle at his discovery, Dick allowed himself a little celebratory grin. Finally, he was onto something.

His smile faded as he looked at the clock face, completely stumped. A broken clock wasn't any big secret, nor was it enough to forbid Dick from the office. He um'd and ah'd with his hands on his hips for a good few minutes. A broken clock wasn't that special…The clock must mean something then!

Maybe…maybe the hands acted like a password or something? Like on the old safe Mr Haley had kept in his office at the circus, maybe the clock hands acted like a dial? Fingers shaking in excitement, he reached up on his tiptoes and began to spin the clock hands. A few minutes passed, and Dick was becoming more and more frustrated. He was right, he was sure of it, but this was taking far too long. He didn't have time to try every possibility on the entire clock. Think Dick, think! He recalled Mr Haley's password had been the date of the day he had set up the circus…so, people used numbers that they wouldn't forget easily, numbers that meant something to them. With renewed excitement Dick ran through all of the numbers he knew meant something to Bruce. Alfred's date of birth, Bruce's date of birth, the day Bruce's parents had died, anything he could think of. But nothing worked.

Suddenly, a realisation struck him. This was a clock you idiot! That meant the password would probably be a time! Times, times, times… who on earth had a special time?!

Dick quickly raced through every conversation he had had with Bruce in the last half year. Something Bruce had told him after he'd had an awful nightmare about his own parents' death, something about how his parents had been murdered too? Something about he still remembered everything about that day, he even remembered the TIME of their death, down to the minute! C'mon, c'mon, he'd even told him…ten…ten…10:47! That was it! Without hesitating Dick spun the old clocks hands until they pointed to the correct time.

Yes! A quiet clicking noise sounded from behind Dick, and he slowly turned around towards what was obviously the origin of the whooshing noise he had heard earlier. The back of the fireplace was lifting up!

"Holy khul…" Dick's mouth dropped open in awe. **(AN. Khul means shit in Romani…apparently)**

He hadn't really considered what Bruce's secret was, but this was not what he had been expecting. A secret tunnel hidden behind a fireplace was _definitely_ not normal. He'd kind of been expecting a secret girlfriend, an evil clone, maybe even just some hidden jewellery or something. But not this. Something seriously secret was going on here.

He crept towards the hole in the wall, almost afraid that something nefarious was going to jump out at him, but nothing did. It was most likely a rational fear, this was Gotham after all. He peered into the shadowy tunnel. Nothing. It was pitch black but he could tell from the freezing cold emanating from the tunnel that it led outside or deep underground.

He hesitated. Was he really going to jump into an unknown hole in the wall just to satisfy his overgrown curiosity? He could just see the obituary now. Richard John Grayson, son of two loving parents, ward of billionaire Bruce Wayne, dies aged nine because he jumped down a random hole to his death. What an idiot. But then again, if he didn't take chances, how was he going to find out anything at all? It's not like Bruce was going to tell him his biggest secret just because he asked politely, was he?

He crossed his heart in prayer like his mother had taught him many years ago as he swung his legs into the hole. Rolling his bright blue eyes at his own sheer stupidity, he took one last look into the office.

"Bruce, if I survive this, you're going to have some serious explaining to do." he whispered.

Closing his eyes, he jumped.

(*I*I*I*)

Dick shot through the darkness. The tunnel was wide and smooth, and judging by the lack of dust, well used. He jittered with excitement, this was a better secret than he could've ever dreamed of! Secret tunnels were so cool!

How awesome was it that his new father figure, or whatever Bruce was to him, had hidden tunnels under his house! This was the best surprise a nine year old could ask for.

Suddenly, he ran out of tunnel. He flailed for a minute in surprise as he shot through the air before his lifetime of acrobat training kicked in, and he executed a flawless flip before landing perfectly on his feet. Bending over he put his hands on his knees and took a few deep breaths to calm his panicked breathing, something Bruce had taught him to deal with panic attacks. After all, who wouldn't be a little freaked out after discovering hidden tunnels that led deep underground and came out…where was he exactly?

Looking up, Dick almost had another panic attack from shock. He'd been a Gothamite for nearly half a year now, and like every kid he idolised the mysterious rumours of Batman, the Dark Knight of Gotham, the mortal man who protected the most dangerous city in the world. Holy crap, he knew where he was. He just couldn't quite believe it. If he hadn't been so young he would've sworn quite impressively, but with his nine year olds vocabulary he could only gaze around in shock and utter awe.

He was in the Batcave!

Dick took a tiny step forward, hesitant all of a sudden. Blocking his panicked thoughts from his mind…_oh god, I'm so dead if __**he**__ catches me…_he took a second to look around. After all, this was every Gothamite's dream come true, and he didn't mean to waste it. An enormous penny gleamed in the distance, and a giant T-Rex towered high up in the shadows, its sharp teeth shining dangerously. A giant Joker card swung in a slight breeze as it hung suspended by gossamer thin wires from the ceiling, but that wasn't what caught Dick's attention the most. He ignored the med bay, the training room and even the zeta beam, not that he recognised the teleporter for what it was. Sticking to the shadows he crept across the cave, pausing every couple of steps to glance around fearfully, until he reached his goal.

The Batmobile sat in its own corner of the cave. Tentatively, Dick touched a single finger to the gorgeous black paint. When no alarms blared or sirens whirred, he placed his entire palm on the car's fin and stroked it adoringly. Hell, you can't fault the kid, it was the freaking Batmobile! A wild giggle broke past his lips, and he couldn't stifle it or hold it in. It was a laugh of pure joy, mixed in with a heavy dose of shock. He was in the Batcave, touching the Batmobile!

His face snapped from bliss to puzzlement and a growing sense of realisation as a thought crossed his mind.

_Why is the Batcave under my house?_

Something span past his head with dizzying speed and embedded itself in the wall above the Batmobile. It had passed so close to Dick's head that sent a breeze through his shaggy black hair. He froze, heart thundering away in his chest. Taking his shaking hands off the Batmobile and letting them dangle at his sides, Dick slowly raised his cerulean eyes to look up at the wall right next to his head. The object stuck in the wall, the object that could've just beheaded him, was a batarang.

Holy crap, he was in _so_ much trouble.

A low growl sounded from behind him. "Put you hands on your head, slowly, and turn around." came the barked order. "No funny business, or else."

Shaking so hard he was in danger of falling over, Dick raised his hands until they were laced together behind his head, and shuffled around slowly. He gazed at the floor, utterly terrified. First of all, this was Batman. Like, _The_ Batman. It had to be, who else used batarangs? And second of all, he was seriously annoyed. At him. The world's scariest hero was infuriated at him. Dick gulped. Holy khul.

Batman's eyes narrowed beneath his mask. Seriously, this guy was way too scary for it to be natural. He must have like, evil glare training or something. "Hmph, you're just a kid. Wayne's new brat, should've known. Thinking of stealing anything?"

Dick was so scared he could barely think, let alone spit out an articulate sentence. He settled for shaking his head vigorously.

"What are you, mute? I will not tolerate people wandering into my cave. What are you doing here?"

Dick's blue eyes travelled up from the steel capped boots, past the world famous utility belt and up to the hooded face of Batman. He took in all of the aspects of the man's face. Chiselled jaw. Check. Disapproving frown. Check. If he took into consideration the fact that the Batcave was under Wayne Manor and the physical similarities then…

Dick's hands dropped from behind his head in shock. "Oh my god, Batman is Bruce! Oh my god," he repeated like a broken record, "Oh my god. Bruce…you're Batman?"

"And what makes you think that?" Batman put away his batarangs and turned to leave without waiting for an answer. "I'm not some ridiculous playboy billionaire. Look, I don't care how you got down here, I'll just look at the security footage and check, just get out and don't come back. Ever. Or you'll have more than kidnapping attempts and ransom demands to worry about."

Dick ran after Batman and tugged on his cape, making the hero stop and turn to glare at him. Dick quailed under the fierceness of the dreaded Bat glare but he refused to give up.

"C'mon Bruce, how stupid do you think I am? You forbid me from your office, you're never around when the criminals break out of Arkham, you turn up to breakfast with injuries and you never go to sleep, you glare like Batman, you look like Batman and the Batcave is under your house? Seriously dude, you're just going to blow me off? I might be your ward and all, but I can still sell your ID to the papers. I know that you know that I know that you, Bruce Wayne, are Batman, the Dark Knight of Gotham."

Batman growled quietly and increased the intensity of his stare. Hell, this kid was nine years old, surely he'd crack and run off soon.

Dick frowned, and mimicked Batman's growl with one of his own. Unfortunately, it came out like a kitten growling at a tiger, and it was more likely to make Batman smile than admit what he already knew. Seeing that Batman wasn't about to give in to some random kid, a 'rich brat' at that, he decided he had to prove it himself. Crouching slightly he leapt up, taking the Dark Knight by surprise as he flipped high over his head, grabbing his cowl on the way past and endeavouring to rip it from his head.

Dick landed on all fours, and gasped with shock as he saw that the cowl had come away in his hands. He'd only meant to show Batman that he was serious, that he wanted answers, but he hadn't expected the cowl to actually come off!

The older man turned and looked down at Dick, who was still crouched on the floor in shock. Oh for heavens sake, the kid was right, he might as well let him have his moment of glory.

Dick felt like doing a victory dance. Ha, he was right, Batman was Bruce! Or Bruce was Batman. Whatever. But damn, if Batman was scary, then Bruce pulling a Bat glare was down right terrifying! He could see the anger, annoyance, and… pride in his eyes?

Bruce ran a hand through his hair, frustrated that Alfred was right again. The old English butler had been telling him and telling him again and again and again that Dick was a smart kid; that he was going to find out his secret ID eventually. Still, he'd never in a million years thought Dick would manage to sneak into the Batcave, take him by surprise and be skilled enough to rip off his cowl, all by the tender age of nine. He _had_ set off the alarms in the Batcave though, but improvements could always be made to his skills. No no no, what was he thinking? This was _not_ a business for kids, even the adults made serious mistakes! For example, next time there were intruders in the cave, he should take the time to attach his own mask properly, instead of just ramming it on his face and rushing off to confront them. What if it had been a proper villain? Idiot. Now he was going to have to explain…well, everything, to Dick, his nine year old newly adopted son.

"Richard." The boy in question gulped. He was in _so_ much trouble.

"Go to bed. It's late, and you've got school tomorrow. I'll…endeavour to explain the situation tomorrow night. But this is a secret, okay? It stays between you, Alfred and I. No matter what."

Dick's blue eyes shone. "AWESOME! I'll keep the secret, you can count on me! I'm living with The Batman…and I know his ID! That's like the best thing ever! Can I help on the next case? Please? C'mon, I'll be so useful…"

"No. It's too dangerous."

"Can I meet Superman?"

"No."

"The Flash?"

"No."

"Aw…fine. I suppose they're not as cool as Batman anyway." Dick skipped happily in front of Bruce, arms swinging and shocked giggles echoing around the usually solemn Batcave.

"Can I be your sidekick?"

"Didn't I just say that's too dangerous?" Batman sighed.

"Jeez Bruce, I'm not eight anymore y'know? C'mon, with my acrobatics I'd be a great hero! I'd like, swing from the rafters and totally nail the Joker, then swing away again! I wouldn't be in any danger! I promise! Please Bruce?"

"No."

"Why not?" Dick whinged.

Bruce knew a standard 'because I said so' would just frustrate the boy. "Because one, it's far too dangerous. No, don't try those puppy eyes on me, I mean it. In any other city, maybe there might be the slightest chance, but Gotham's just too….well, _Gotham_. It's the worst city in the world for a damn good reason. And two…" Bruce closed his eyes and imagined the hero community's faces if he turned up with a kid for a sidekick. "The rest of the heroes would _obliterate_ me if I took you on as a partner. I might be Batman but between an angry Superman, Wonder Woman and who knows else acting like a bunch of mother hens, I wouldn't last a minute. Maybe ten seconds if I was really lucky."

"Aw." Dick looked downcast for a minute before changing his tact. "Well, since you're such a great fighter and everything, maybe you could teach me some self defence? I mean, I've already been ransomed once, and I've only been here half a year! And I'm good with computers, maybe I could help with tech stuff, like if you teach me hacking? I could help looking at footage, analyze clues, and I'd never have to leave the cave; I'd be in no danger at all!"

Bruce sighed. Damn, Dick was one stubborn kid. "I said, we'll talk about this tomorrow. It's three in the morning Dick, and you're nine years old. I might teach you some self defence, just so you can protect yourself, but that's it, okay? This is not a business for a child. Now go to bed." Bruce turned on his heel and began to walk out of the cave, striving to ignore Dick tugging on his cape.

"But Bruce…can't I look around the Batcave some more? Besides, I'm not tired at all." he said, trying to stifle a huge yawn.

Bruce rolled his eyes. Last resort time. "Alright, I'll cut you a deal. You go to bed right now, and I'll let you off school tomorrow." Bruce knew bribery wasn't the best parenting technique, but he wasn't exactly cut out to be a father. Hence the lack of biological kids. "Plus, I'll even let you spend the day in the Batcave, and I'll show you what some of my gadgets can do. But I mean it, go upstairs and go to sleep. I'm exhausted, and I can see that you are too."

Dick whooped and the joyful noise echoed around the cave. He pumped his fist in the air and cart wheeled along in front of Bruce, completely ecstatic. Jumping up he surprised Bruce by wrapping him in a huge hug, before bouncing away again.

Bruce rolled his eyes at Dick's behaviour but a small smile crossed his face when they left the cave. He wasn't going to _actually_ let Dick deal with any criminals, he was just a kid after all, but maybe it would be nice to have another person around to cover for him, and deal with some administrative work. Also, it would cut his workload if he didn't have to spend his time hiding things from Dick. But he was absolutely, completely, definitely one hundred percent sure that Dick could never be allowed to go out on patrol with Batman. Nu uh. No way.

Dick was happier than he'd ever been in his life. He lived with Batman, and he was going to get to explore the Batcave tomorrow. Plus, he got to miss boring old school for a whole day! This literally couldn't get any better…unless… Dick smiled, he could see his change in tact was working. Once Bruce saw how ready and willing he was to learn, and hopefully how good he was at everything, he was sure he could beg, bully, persuade and cajole Batman into letting him help out with cleaning up Gotham's streets. He'd call himself…Robin, in honour of his mother. He'd always been her little robin, and now he'd be the bird of Gotham. If he could persuade Bruce anyway.

Yeah, Robin worked. Robin, the boy who flew.

Six moths later, Gotham had a new hero in town.

Dick never looked back.

_**Review?**_


	2. A Speedster Gets His Stripes

**_Hey guys, this is chapter 2, and it's Wally-centric! At this point he's living with Barry and Iris, because…reasons, I guess. Deal with it. One of my mottos when writing is 'Timelines? What's a timeline?' so be prepared…_**

Wallace Rudolph West was a smart kid. Sure, his Uncle Barry was smart, being a police detective and all, but he wasn't exactly good at hiding things. Wally had found his old case book hidden under a stack of collage science textbooks that he'd been reading through, because, after all, normal school science textbooks were just too easy for this genius scientist. Since Wally idolised his Uncle Barry second to only Central City's favourite superhero, the Flash, he'd always wanted to read about the cases his uncle had solved.

Unfortunately, the discovery of this book led to an adventure that ended with Wally stuck in a hospital bed with extremely rare and very painful lightning burns dappled up and down his tiny twelve year old body.

Go figure.

See, Wally's Uncle Barry turned out to be the Flash. Yep, the one and only. Cool, huh? Wally himself hadn't known until he'd read all the way through Barry's case book and had reached the back page, which was stuffed full of formulas, crossings out, chemicals and a whole lot of maths. Wally was immediately intrigued, this looked like a science experiment…but he'd heard about all of Barry's failed college experiments, and he didn't recall this one!

Determined to figure out the secret, Wally had spent months pouring over the book by torchlight when he was supposed to be asleep. Searching the internet and through textbooks for a similar experiment proved fruitless, so Wally decided he had to think like a detective, and look for clues. After scouring his house from top to bottom and finding nothing useful, he had decided he needed to search Barry's office at the Forensics Department.

After a couple of days of nagging and pleading and doing all the chores around the house Barry had relented and he'd been allowed to go. Within moments of Barry proudly showing Wally around his cluttered workplace, the ginger had realised that the chemicals on his list matched up with the chemicals littered around the shelves of his Uncle's office. This had only frustrated Wally's curious spirit further. What the hell _was_ this stuff?

Another month passed by, and eventually Wally had been close to giving up. He wasn't getting anywhere! All the tracks he would normally go down had either failed or were closed off to him. What the heck was he supposed to do? Wally sat back on his bed, banged his head gently against the wall in frustration, and sighed. Stupid book, stupid experiment, stupid stupid _stupid_! With a cry of frustration Wally threw the offending journal across the room as hard as he could, and crossed his arms in a sulk.

"Wally, what was that noise?" his aunt's concerned voice floated up the stairs.

"Nothing Aunt Iris! I just knocked a book off my bedside table!"

Scampering across the room Wally picked up the book and stuck it back in its hiding place inside his underwear draw. Give him a break, he was only twelve years old, and his other hiding place was in an empty ice cream tub under his bed. Definitely not up to Robin standards, that was for sure.

But no matter how frustrated he became, Wally was 100% determined to work this mystery out for himself. He _refused_ to take the easy route out and simply ask his uncle, how boring was that? Besides, he'd never get a straight answer anyway, adults never wanted to let kids in on anything fun, and Uncle Barry could be surprisingly tight-lipped when he wanted to be. Wally turned around, about to throw himself back onto his bed in a huff, when a mysterious piece of paper on his bedroom floor caught his eye.

Bending down, he scooped up the sheet of paper and examined it, bright green eyes widening in surprise. Where had it come from, it hadn't been there a second ago…it must have been lodged inside of the cover of the old book! It was a list of speeds, written next to codes likes PB and PR. Wally was no athlete but he knew speed from his physics experiments, and these were way too fast even for the world's fastest car. A plane? Nah, still too slow. A spaceship? But why would his Uncle Barry have speed measurements for a spaceship? He was a city detective, not a NASA agent.

These measurements were fast, seriously fast. As with anything related to speed, or general awesomeness really, Wally's thoughts turned to the Flash, his favourite superhero. Surely _he_ could run this fast? But why would Uncle Barry…

Wally wasn't stupid; he could put two and two together. Uncle Barry with hidden measurements for what was most likely the Flash's top speeds, details for a mysterious experiment dated just after the Flash appeared for the first time, coupled with the fact that Uncle Barry was always missing when the Flash was around? Duh!

You could almost see the light bulb shining above his head.

Uncle Barry was the Flash!

Awesome!

Wally pumped his fist in the air in ecstasy, smiling like a madman and dancing silently around his room; he'd finally done it! He'd solved the problem, and had come out with a solution better than he could've ever dreamed of.

But Wally wanted to know more than the Flash's secret ID…or his Uncle Barry's secret ID…same difference. He wanted to _be_ the Flash, to _help_ the Flash. He wanted to be a hero in his own right, to help people, and to meet Uncle Hal's Green Lantern friend for himself.

**(AN: Both Hal and Barry are 'friends' with their respective heroes, i.e. that's their excuse for knowing way too much about them. Because they're giant dorks who can't resist boasting.)**

So, Wally set to work. He wasn't stupid, he knew better than to gloat to his Uncle, because he'd get a pat on the head, the notes on the Flash incident confiscated and nothing more. No superpowers, no training, nothing! He knew that if he wanted to be the Flash's partner, he'd have to make it happen by himself. He decided to think about it as a test; you make yourself a sidekick, therefore you _are_ a sidekick. Wally smirked as he mulled the idea over, and began to concoct a little scheme for himself.

He examined the weather forecast for a good storm, and he copied the keys to his uncle's office so he could get in at the perfect time without permission. Usually a police lab would have swipe cards that would be impossible to copy, but because Uncle Barry constantly lost his card **(read couldn't carry it as Flash for ID reasons), **he had a set of physical keys as well. Far easier for Wally to copy.

He lined the outside of the skylight in Barry's office with copper to attract the lightning that he would need for the experiment to work when his Uncle went out to examine a crime scene, balancing precariously on a tall ladder and falling off at least twice (it had been really awkward trying to explain away the Wally-shaped dent in a stack of carboard boxes full of evidence, but Wally was sure all the pain was going to be worth it). He hoped that it wouldn't matter how many volts there were when the lightning struck, because there was no way he could control that. But even with his meticulous planning, not once did Wally consider the extreme danger to himself.

Idiot.

One dark night with thunderclouds rumbling across the sky, Wally snuck out of his room via the window, shimmied down the drainpipe and took off across the city, grinning in overwhelming excitement even as he gazed back at the house with wide eyes, terrified of getting caught. Aunt Iris would probably ban him from ice cream _for life_ if she caught him sneaking out in the middle of the night. He shuddered at the thought. He'd probably die without ice cream; if there was one thing he and Uncle Barry would actually fight Iris about, it was the necessity of ice cream.

Although Central City was always reasonably safe, especially compared to mad houses like Gotham or Bludhaven, Wally stuck to the main streets. Alleyways were for murderers, victims and worse.

He sneaked inside the lab building with little effort; the security was lax because there was nothing to steal here, and Central's villains seemed to have a permanent fascination for attacking the main bank anyway. It was like the Rogues had a fetish for it or something. Wally took out the keys he'd had copied, and unlocked the door to his Uncle's office with his heart practically in his mouth. Buzzing with excitement he entered, carefully looking around to check he was definitely alone. It would kill him to run into the security guard when he was so close to his goal.

Wally carefully positioned himself in the dead centre of the room, the vast array of different coloured chemicals that lined the walls reflecting a full spectrum of colours through the tension-filled air, creating a stunning indoor rainbow splayed across the walls of the dark room.

Outside, the approaching thunderstorm drew closer and closer, the smell of ozone permeating the air and the lightning strikes flickering across the sky with ethereal beauty. Wally grinned, and ran a hand nervously through his ginger hair. All was going according to plan. He winced at the cheesy line. _Wow, I'm more like Flash than I thought with that terrible one liner…I'm gonna have to work on that or I might die of embarrassment if me saying that ends up on the news._

The lightning sped closer, flashing above the building across the street. The thunderous boom followed a split second later, and Wally was bouncing up and down on the spot with excitement. He closed his eyes in anticipation, barely able to hold still. Any second now.

Light seared through his eyelids as the lightning sped through the window, drawn through the copper-lined window to the most conductible thing in the room. Him. Wally screamed as his body lit up like a Christmas tree, with lightning flowing through the skylight and straight into him in a seemingly unending arch. Chemical fumes flowed from the smashed bottles, mixing in the air as a single noxious gas. He couldn't help but breathe it in as he choked and gasped with pain, writhing as the sensation of liquid fire replaced every cell in his body. It seemed like he was suspended in midair for hours, writhing uncontrollably, letting out a series of ear-piercing screams. Finally, after what felt like a millennia of agony, the lightning stopped. Thunder boomed as Wally collapsed to the floor.

So, there we are. Wally was in hospital, in severe pain and just waking up after being sedated for three days according to the doctor's notes on his bedside table. Damn, Uncle Barry was gonna be mad as hell; ice cream was gonna get banned for sure. Wally's vision was still blurry, but he was reasonably sure that when he held his hand close to his face he could see it vibrating. Not oh-my-god-so-this-is-how-much-sugar-one-human-being-can-consume-without-exploding vibrating, or holy-crap-this-test-decides-the-rest-of-my-life-and-I-haven't-revised shaking, but my-molecules-are-moving-so-fast-they're-visibly-moving vibrating.

A small smile slipped onto his face. Ha, so his plan actually worked? He was a speedster now, just like the Flash?

Maybe this was worth the pain.

Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris stormed into the room, identical looks of terror and relief set heavily on their features. Wally stuck his vibrating hand under the bed covers, not so much trying to hide from them as…well, trying not to freak them out too much. He didn't want them to have a heart attack! They rushed over to Wally's bedside and enveloped him in a huge hug, Iris burying her face in his shoulder and Barry smushing both of them into his chest like he was terrified of losing them.

"Oh Wally, we've been so worried!"

Or maybe the speed wasn't worth it after all.

Guilt rushed over him, why had he never considered how much his aunt and uncle worried about him, loved him like he was their own son? His own biological parents couldn't care less, but his new, adopted, wish-they-were-really-mine parents? He'd been out for three days at least, and looking at all of the IVs and needles stuck into him, he nearly had a heart attack himself! His chest was covered in spidery red scars that snaked across his shoulders and most of the way down his arms, as well as all along his torso and most of the way down his legs. They must have been terrified; he'd hurt not only himself but them as well.

Aunt Iris pulled back from the hug and rested a soft, motherly hand on her nephew's face. He looked so pale, so sad, so…guilty?

"Wally…what did you do? What were you thinking? You were found passed out in your uncle's office, covered in scars, and only after a maintenance man heard you screaming. You're lucky to be alive! The police told us how the windows were lined with copper, most likely to attract the lightening…if you were unhappy, you could've talked to us!" Tears shone in her eyes as she looked at the son she'd nearly lost.

Wally was perplexed…unhappy? Why would he be unhappy? Realisation dawned.

"No, Aunt Iris, it's not like that, never like that! You think…I'd never do that, don't you know how happy you've made me? I am not suicidal! It was an experiment." Wally looked around, to check they were unobserved. Just in case, he lowered his voice anyway. "Uncle Barry's life changing experiment to be exact."

The two adults exchanged a look. A long, scary look. Iris' eyes hardened as she glared at her husband. Barry could see the pure heat in her stare, and though he might face down super villains everyday after work, his wife was one scary lady, especially when it came to protecting her nephew. He could see with perfect clarity that he was going to get an earful for this one, and probably get all _his_ ice cream taken away. Barry tried valiantly not to flinch, and failed. Still, what was most important at the moment was ascertaining Wally was alright…and also exactly what he knew.

Barry settled down into the chair next to his nephew's hospital bed, and rested his elbows on his knees, gazing at him intently.

"Wally…I like science, just like you, but I'm no scientist. I don't do experiments for fun, I'm a detective, remember? Science is just my job. Why were you in my office three nights ago Wally, what was the real reason?" Barry looked like he was trying very, very hard not to break down and cry over his poor, silly nephew. But if his suspicions were right…

Instead of answering Wally looked long and hard at his uncle, before slowly bringing out his hand from under the covers and resting it on his lap. The vibrating of his particles, controlled or not, told his uncle all he needed to know.

"Oh Wally."

"Yeah." said the newly self-made speedster. "I know. I know I'm an idiot, and I know I'm probably in serious trouble when I get home, but I also found out about Uncle Barry's…extra curricular activities, and uh, decided to copy him?" It came out like a question, rather than a statement.

Barry rested his head in his hands and muttered to himself "Oh shit." Bear in mind that this was the Flash, a clean mouthed hero who never swore or even said anything even remotely rude, especially in front of his nephew. "Shit," he said again, "Bats is gonna string me up and use my guts as window decorations for this one. Robin was one thing, but a meta-child? Shit. Ho-_ly_ shit."

"Barry?" Wally and Iris looked at the man with worry written openly on their faces. Did he just _swear_?

Barry looked up. "Oh, sorry. I…um, I…never mind. It doesn't matter. Don't worry about it. Wally, just concentrate on getting better. In a few days you'll be able to come home and we can talk about… this." He said, waving his hand in the general direction of Wally's arm. "We can train you to control it…and talk where we can't be overheard," he said, nodding at the doorway. "Okay?"

"Coolio." crowed Wally, smiling now that he knew his uncle wasn't going to kill him for being such an idiot. "I can't wait to be out helping you-know-who clean up the city! Maybe I can even meet…them?" he whispered, hope and idolisation shining in his eyes.

Barry exchanged another look with Iris, and they both laughed internally at their bubbly nephew's antics. He was simply adorable, how could they possibly stay mad when everything had turned out fine in the end? "Alright kiddo, you get better nice and quick, never worry your Auntie Iris or me like that again, and I'll introduce you to the whole crowd. Deal?" Batman was going to kill him for caving so easily, but the joint excitement of Wally and Hal was definitely going to be worth it.

"Well duh!" Wally bounced happily in his bed, a bit higher and faster than a normal child could, but it didn't matter. He just looked so cute, a little blur of overexcited ginger with the biggest grin ever decorating his face.

A nurse called from the corridor, her tone sympathetic but firm, as if daring anyone to defy her. "Mr and Mrs Allen, I'm afraid visiting time is over. You can come back tomorrow if you want, but I have to ask you to leave now."

"Okay, we're coming!" Iris leaned down and kissed her favourite nephew on his forehead, a sweetly relieved smile on her face that smoothed out all of her worried wrinkles. "Get well soon Wally." She turned and walked out of the room, leaving her husband to spend a little alone time with the new self-created speedster. Sometimes, she thought he was just too smart for his own good. And if Barry thought she was letting her nephew put himself in danger fighting violent criminals, well, he had another thing coming. There was no way in hell she was going to give in, battle was not a place for children. Ever, meta-human or not.

Barry and Wally exchanged a mischievous grin. Barry ruffled his nephew's ginger hair before leaning in and whispering in his ear in a co-conspiratorial manner. "Looks like the Flash has himself a new sidekick. What do you think about the name Kid Flash?"

**_Review?_**


	3. An Archer Gets His Quiver

**_Speedy needs more love in this fandom. And more background. And just generally _****more ****_dammit. So here's our favourite red-headed, hot-headed archer. _**

**_Warning for his dirty mouth._**

Roy really wasn't enjoying meeting his hero as much as he thought he would.

When Brave Bow had told him a couple of months ago about an archery competition that was going to be judged by Green Arrow himself, Roy had jumped at the chance to meet his hero, even just in passing.

But being chased down by said hero really hadn't been on his wish list.

"I didn't do it!" he yelled over his shoulder, ducking as a blunt-tipped arrow flew centimetres over his head. "I swear to God it wasn't me!"

"Sure it wasn't kid. Why don't you get back here and talk about it?" Ollie's domino mask narrowed as he surveyed the fleeing kid in front of him. He had to be fourteen, maybe fifteen, with flame red hair and an angry attitude to match. At the competition his archery had been good, amazingly good actually, maybe even on a par with the hero himself. A pity the kid was a petty crook. Well, not exactly _petty_ after he'd tried to steal the first prize of a golden arrow worth close to $10,000, but the point was there. Haha, _point_. Ollie mentally smacked himself back into concentration as the redhead, Roy he had said his name was, Roy Harper, slid under an emergency staircase and came up running the other side.

Roy was freaking out. He had a bow in his right hand and a quiver over his shoulder, but he couldn't shoot Green Arrow! One, because getting into an archery fight with the world's greatest archer was just plain stupid even for him, and two, because he was _the_ Green Arrow! What if he actually shot him? That would probably make him some kind of villain, and as good as he was with a bow, they didn't have bows in prison.

"I fucking swear I didn't do it you asshole, Jesus Christ, listen to me! What the hell happened to innocent until proven guilty?" This was the first time in the history of ever Roy was glad that Brave Bow made everyone on the reserve do endurance training, because otherwise he would've gotten caught by now. About six times. Though how he was still outrunning Green Arrow he wasn't quite sure.

"Kid, you _were_ proven guilty. They found the golden arrow buried in your stuff in the locker room, that looks pretty guilty to me." Ollie jumped the five foot gap after the thief, doing a forward roll over the gravel rooftop as he landed on the other side, and wincing as he realised he was going to have to pick that gravel out of his hair later. Brilliant. Just brilliant. His night couldn't get any worse…okay, it really could, but that wasn't the point. He was allowed to exaggerate, alright?

Roy's panic was starting to give over to anger. "And where the fuck is the stupid golden arrow now? Back at the competition where that sneaky bastard Xavier framed me and has probably made off with the stupid fucking piece of shit half an hour ago!" Roy whirled to face his hero with narrowed eyes as the other man ground to a halt, surprise and dawning realisation spreading across his face.

"Well why didn't you just say that half an hour ago?"

Roy pulled one of the greatest unimpressed teenager looks of all time, crossing his arms and cocking one hip, a true picture of annoyance. "I was a little busy dodging your barrage of arrows and generally running for my life."

"I don't kill people kid, thought you might've realised that with the whole hero gig." Ollie's stern expression turned slightly sheepish. "But nice job with the dodging by the way. I'm impressed."

Roy shrugged, fighting to remain blasé, but there was a blush spreading across his cheeks at such praise from his hero. He might be a grumpy, pissed off teenager, but Green Arrow was a superhero, and had been Roy's personal hero since he first showed up on the scene ten years ago. "Whatever man, at least you're actually listening to me now. I'm not a thief, my kind of adopted dad, Brave Bow, doesn't…I mean didn't…" Roy took a deep breath, "approve of thieves."

Behind his mask, Ollie's eyes softened, though his outward appearance remained cool and contained. "Sorry for your loss kid."

"If you quit calling me 'kid' I'll call it quits with your trying to turn me into a pincushion." Roy raised an eyebrow but didn't let his death grip on his bow loosen. Because dammit if he was going down he was going down fighting, whether he liked it or not. He wouldn't survive ten minutes in prison.

"So, this Xavier person framed you? Which one was he…no, let me guess. The one you spent the entire competition exchanging glares with and smiling smugly at every time you bested his shot?"

"Well, he might've been a shit shot, but he's turned out to be a damn good thief wouldn't you say? Outsmarted a superhero and framed me in the bargain."

Ollie winced. Damn, he had just been outsmarted by a kid, hadn't he? Even if it technically was _his_ stupidly expensive golden arrow (Oliver Queen was well known for his random commissions and donations), that was still pretty damn embarrassing. "Yeah…guess I should go and catch him then."

Roy looked at Ollie, an almost expectant look on his face. Ollie looked at Roy, an equally hesitant look on _his_ face. Batman would kill him if he ever heard. Scratch that, his own girlfriend would kill him _when_ she heard. Ollie would swear to the end of his days that Dinah had a secondary superpower of sniffing out secrets. Specifically _his_ secrets.

After half a minute of an increasingly awkward standoff, Roy gave in. If there was one thing he'd learnt in his life, it was to stand up for himself and ask for what he wanted. "Alright, am I gonna have to ask or are you gonna man up and do it?"

Ollie could physically feel his fear of Dinah and the League crumble against his guilt and embarrassment for chasing this kid over the rooftops for half an hour. Dinah had only screamed Batman through two walls when she found out about Robin, right? How bad could it be?

He was definitely going to regret saying that.

With a sigh that plainly meant 'I am so going to regret this later', Green Arrow extended a hand to the redheaded young man opposite him. "Wanna help me catch this thief?"

Roy grinned, adjusting his quiver and swapping his bow to his other hand so he could shake hands with his hero. "I thought you'd never ask."

(*I*I*I*)

They dashed helter skelter over the rooftops of Starling, Ollie stopping a mugging with a single well placed arrow into a dark alleyway without even slowing his pace, and Roy grinning at him with blue eyes so excited that Ollie nearly asked him if he was okay. Instead, he passed the teenager his spare domino mask, and watched him stick it onto his face with a small smile. He suited it, the black and white mask made Roy look older and a heck of a lot more intimidating, and between that and his archery outfit he'd put on for the competition… he was starting to look like a real superhero.

Ollie's internal monologue ambushed him half way to his goal. '_What the hell do you think you're doing! This is the stupidest plan ever…well maybe not ever, but it's coming pretty darn close…what do you mean Roy has to be minimum 5 years older than Robin, and Starling's less dangerous than Gotham? The League only calmed down about the first super-kid after Robin punched Superman in the face and broke his nose, and that was _after_ Canary sonic-screamed Batman through two walls and Wonder Woman nearly strangled him with her lasso! And half the reason everyone was eventually okay with it is because everyone is scared shitless of Batman, and you're not half as scary. And another thing, you can't take a teenager to fight a thief, even if said thief _is_ a teenager, and the aforementioned redhead is a damn good shot with a bow. And already looks the part of a sidekick. Dammit Oliver Queen, you're going to get the both of you killed, by your team if not by this thief!' _Ollie had to admit it, his internal monologue sounded way too much like Black Canary, especially when it was chastising him. Which happened a lot. Because apparently he was a certified idiot. It said so on his file.

Ollie really didn't want to know why he had a file. He just knew people used it against him a lot. Like when Dinah had refused to date him at first because his file said he was an 'irredeemable playboy'. So maybe the file was partly right, though he liked to think he'd worked on the 'irredeemable' bit. Playboy, not so much.

Roy's internal monologue, on the other hand, was running more like this: '_Oh my god I'm actually running around with the Green Arrow in his city, we're actually hunting a freaking criminal together, this is so freaking cool I think I'm going to spontaneously combust…right, here comes another jump, concentrate…one, two, three GO! Right good, that's over, this rooftop jumping thinking is pretty cool, I see why heroes actually travel this way, y'know other than to avoid traffic jams._' They ran past a street lamp, the white light almost blinding him until the domino mask automatically filtered it out. '_And I'm wearing Green Arrow's mask, holy shit! Stay cool man, stay cool, this totally isn't the coolest thing to ever happen to you in your entire boring old normal life…oh who am I even kidding, this is epic! Outward appearances Roy, keep it together, we are not going to embarrass ourselves here…ooh, don't miss that jump!_'

After about five minutes of rooftop running in companionable silence, Green Arrow held up a hand and the duo skidded to a halt. He turned to his new partner, an uncharacteristic deadly serious expression on his face. "What I'm about to show you could get most of the world's superheroes killed if you tell a single soul, so I'm trusting you, okay?"

Roy nodded, his insides tingling with suspense, and mimed zipping his lips. There was no way in hell he'd give up any secret of Green Arrow's. Except maybe that his moustache looked stupid. But that was much of a secret to start with.

Green Arrow smirked, and jumped off the roof, beckoning for Roy to follow as he fell like a stone through the air. While the hero just leapt off the three storey building seemingly without a care in the world and absorbed the force of his landing with a forward roll, Roy took the more conservative route, carefully planning a path onto a window ledge, before landing on the fire escape opposite with a muted clatter and dashing down the rest of the steps. "Took your time."

"Shockingly," said Roy sarcastically, though he was fighting back a grin as he made his way over to the other archer's side, "I haven't had extensive ninja training on how to leap off buildings without breaking every bone in my legs. But we can work on it."

"Extensive ninja training?" Green Arrow's mask tilted up on one side, giving the impression he was raising an eyebrow.

Roy noticed the hero hadn't made a comment about them working on his skills later, forced down an even wider grin, and shrugged. "I'm working with what I've got man, keep your tights on. It's not like I've read your life history. Besides, it's perfectly reasonable to assume that Batman indoctrinates all superheroes with secret badass fighting techniques when they enter the Justice League."

"That," Arrow said as he turned away from Roy to knock sharply on the alleyway wall, "is not that far from what happens."

"WHO GOES THERE?" boomed a voice, making Roy start in shock and nearly fall on his ass. A green gloved hand shot out and stopped his fall by grabbing his arm, and Roy nodded his thanks as he climbed back onto his feet and brushed himself down, domino mask now narrowed in suspicion at the seemingly normal brick wall _that just spoke_.

"Dude, you literally have a camera, you can see it's me." Behind his mask, Ollie rolled his eyes. This guy sometimes… "Don't be an overdramatic asshole, I thought we agreed that was Bats job."

Ollie could almost _hear_ Barry pout all the way from outer space. "Ssh, you know he'll hear you-"

"I'd love to engage in the usual banter Flash," Ollie interrupted, actual regret colouring his voice, "but we're on a time limit here. Not all of us have all the time in the world."

"Yeah speed jokes are real original Hood. And mind telling me exactly why I should risk my life letting you take an unknown, underage civvie into the zeta network?"

Ollie grinned wickedly. "Last Thursday evening, your fight with Captain Cold. A little yellow blur caught my eye. It's amazing what you can see when you slow down and enhance a blurry video from Central City." Ah blackmail, how he loved it so.

"You saw that…how did you even…are you stalking me?" There was a minor pause, where Ollie smirked at the wall with his most shit-eating grin out in full force, Barry freaked the hell out in the Watchtower and Roy had absolutely no idea how that brick wall was the Flash, what a yellow blur had to do with anything or just generally what the hell was going on.

In the years to come, Roy would get used to not understanding what the hell happened when Ollie, Barry and/or Hal got together. Seriously, one time he ended up in a field with a really angry bull in Outer Mongolia with no idea how he got there, wearing a grass hula skirt, clutching a beer in one hand and an umbrella in the other. This was also the time Roy learnt how to joust charging bulls with a pink Barbie umbrella, which was a skill that came in useful more than you might think, but that's a story for another time.

"Just do a check on Roy Harper, let us into the Arrow Cave without telling Bats or Supes or _especially_ Canary, and I'll kindly forget about your new sidekick. Roy will too, won't you Roy?"

"Um…yeah, sure." managed Roy, blue eyes wide, "What he said."

"See?" Ollie slapped his new (temporary?) partner on the shoulder with so much enthusiasm the redhead nearly fell over. "This kid is great, there's no way he's gonna be trouble. Probably."

There was the muted sound of a keyboard clicking at superspeed. "Right, okay, Roy Harper. 15 years old, no known criminal record, mmm…yeah, looks clean to me. Punched up some guy in high school though, two guys actually. Anything you want to tell us?"

Roy blushed, his cheeks turning scarlet, and words started to tumble out of his mouth at a speed that would rival the Flash himself before he could even put a check on them. You can't blame him, when Green Arrow glares at you in a dark alleyway you'd have to be _Batman_ not to freak out. "Well…um, the first guy was when we were twelve. Kept saying everyone on the rez was a 'scum-sucking money-scrounging disgusting, dirty, thieving piece of shit', so I lost my temper and decked him one, sent him straight to hospital with a broken nose for his trouble. The second guy was about half a year ago, he kept threatening to, um, do things to this girl in my class and her girlfriend because they were lesbians, except he was being really threatening about it like bunching his fist under her face and slamming her into her locker and stuff, so I stepped in between them…" Roy took a deep breath before continuing his tirade, "and he tried to punch me so I threw his fist straight back into his face and broke his eye socket and I got suspended but it was so freaking worth it because he totally backed off after that."

Roy looked up, seriously afraid of getting yelled at or sent to jail or _something_, but Green Arrow was only looking at him with something akin to a proud smile on his face. "Now that is what I call vigilantism. Nice work Roy." He turned back to the wall. "So can we go now? We've got a thief to catch."

The wall voice aka the Flash groaned half-heartedly. "I better get a nice funeral."

A bright blue light shot out of the wall, scanned the duo and sent them hurtling through space as a barely connected chain of atoms before either archer could come out with the sassy comment they had been brewing. Because they were already just that similar.

The world wasn't going to know what hit them.

(*I*I*I*)

The Arrow Cave was beyond cool. The glowing spotlights, the epic displays of weaponry, the dark imposing shadows, the giant supercomputer; this place had it all.

After Roy got over being atomised (he'd really glared at the hero for that, though he was a little wary about yelling at a man that could probably kill him with his pinky just yet), and got over the sheer size and holy-shit factor of being in _the_ Arrow Cave _in person_, he'd proceeded to dawdle around as Green Arrow started up some kind of search algorithm on the computer that probably would've been impressive if Roy knew anything about programming. Which he didn't.

Ollie was seriously enjoying Roy's awestruck reaction to his cave as the hero put down his bow and knocked back his hood. It wasn't like he got to show many people around his second home, and compared to Mount Justice or the Watchtower, it really wasn't that impressive. And some people *cough* Batman *cough* had such a superiority complex that they immediately had to point out that a Batcave makes sense because bats live in caves, but arrows on the other hand…maybe he should start calling this place the Quiver.

Ollie mused on his latest plan to paint the Batmobile green as he half paid attention to the small computer screen to his left. After what had to be the millionth time of 'borrowing' this search algorithm from the Pentagon to hunt down criminals in the city, he barely even had to pay attention to what he was typing. No, he was busy wondering if Robin would help him paint the Batmobile, or maybe Roy could-

"Y'know, I really wouldn't have you were Oliver Queen, but I can see it now."

Ollie whipped around only to see Roy with his phone out, a smug grin on his face. "_What did you just say?"_

Green Arrow's hand twitched over his quiver as if dying to pull out an arrow, and Roy gulped, suddenly regretting his attempt at being a smart ass, because even if the hero wasn't holding his bow Roy had no doubt he could do some serious damage with that arrow. If 'discovering a superhero's secret ID' got put on his gravestone as his cause of death, he was really going to wish he'd kept his mouth shut. "Um…maybe you should've confiscated my phone so I couldn't Google our location?"

Ollie considered bluffing and lying through his teeth, laughing off the fact he was Oliver Queen like that was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard, but Ollie couldn't say he liked the idea of lying to a kid and belittling his intelligence. Because honestly, he was impressed, and also pretty curious about how he'd worked it out. Not that he was delighted by how this kid had outsmarted him, no, no way, and he _definitely_ wasn't considering how this was already proving to be a learning curve for him, and could be a beneficial partnership for both of them. "How did you get my identity from our location?"

"Well…uh…well Google Maps says we're under the Verdant, which is a nightclub mainly owned by Queen Consolidated, which everyone knows Oliver Queen owns, and if I pull up a picture of Oliver Queen…" Roy tapped a few keys and dragged up a picture of Ollie onto the screen, "When you're not brooding in the shadows under your hood and I actually get a good look at you and compare you to this guy…it's pretty obvious you're the same dude." Roy shrugged, but the lenses of his domino mask were still wide, and he watched the heroes every move with a jittery but forcibly-muted panic. If Ollie so much as twitched, he flinched too. "Plus…well the golden arrow was a pretty random commission, and how else would a billionaire businessman get in contact with the Green Arrow and make him host some dumb kids competition unless he somehow knew him? I guess you could've been one of your employees, but if the picture fits…you probably shouldn't have taken off your hood."

Ollie grinned as he drew back into the shadows and pulled his hood back over his head, turning back to the computer and definitely not planning how he was going to suggest a more permanent partnership to Roy. Nuh uh, no siree. He certainly wasn't waiting to see how the kid handled himself in the field. "Dammit Harper, I'm impressed. If you're some kind of kid mercenary who's out to sell my secrets I guess I'm screwed."

"I'm not…" Roy trailed off. "You're joking aren't you."

Ollie shrugged noncommittally, fingers flying over the keyboard. "I guess we'll find out Kid Mercenary."

"I thought we'd covered the whole 'don't call me kid' thing?" Roy paused and took his opportunity to cause some mischief. So sue him, he couldn't keep his mouth shut. It's not the worse trait he could've had, and in fact he had that in common with both of the world's other young superheroes. "Unless the news is right and you really are going senile."

Alright, Roy was officially the best kid Ollie had ever come into contact with. "Senile? Harper, I'm tragically offended. I'm only 31."

Now he knew his death-by-arrow wasn't imminent, Roy was absolutely fucking chuffed to bits. Because seriously, knowing Green Arrow's secret identity, and what's better, being trusted to keep it a secret? And being in the Arrow Cave? And helping Green Arrow solve a crime? How could any sane human being not be having heart palpitations from excitement? Roy sidled up to…Oliver he guessed, he couldn't very well going on calling him 'Green Arrow' (it had been a bit of a mouthful anyway), and peered over his shoulder, only to be confronted by a mass of random squiggly lines and moving dots.

"This is a tracking programme a 'friend' of mine designed for me," Ollie began to explain without pre-empting. What, he could be a decent teacher if he tried hard enough. Maybe. "and I've set it to start pinging the location of every known criminal in Starling. Red dots are mobsters, labelled dots are supervillains, though thankfully there aren't any escapees tonight, blue dots are out-of-towners that come through the JLA systems, grey dots are anyone with a small but currently inactive criminal record, and now…" Ollie clicked through a few more options, "pink dots are petty crooks and thieves."

"His name was Xavier, didn't catch a last name. Bottle-dyed redhead, about 5'7", quite pale, definitely younger than me but I don't know exactly how old. All black archery outfit though it looked pretty cobbled together to me." Roy snorted. "Although he wasn't all bothered about archery in my opinion, unless you count turning up, but he put on a better show than the fangirls and boys who just showed up to meet you. I'd guess natural hand-to-eye coordination was the only thing that let him hit the target in the first place." Roy rattled off the facts he remembered.

Ollie gave him a side-eyed look that somehow translated through the mask.

Roy crossed his arms across his chest defensively. "What? I watch cop shows. Any information could be helpful to catch a criminal, right?"

The computer beeped, three possible locations flashing up and interrupting any sassy comment Ollie had been planning on making. "Alright then Mr Detective, three locations. Your thief is in one of them. Use your cop mojo and tell me where you think he is."

"Um…" Roy looked at the screen for a moment, before jabbing his finger at the dot on the top right. "That one."

"Why?"

"Because it's an abandoned nightclub in a slightly dodgy area called Red Handed, and I'm willing to bet that our thief has chosen there as his hideout and has dyed his hair red because he thinks he's a comedic genius."

Ollie gave a long suffering smirk as he quickly checked into Roy's prediction. The redhead was honestly touched that the hero had run with his off-the-hat guess just because he had faith in him. "Don't they all. Count Vertigo seems to think it's really funny to stage fights in high up places so he can make really poor vertigo jokes…is this your guy?"

A grainy picture was dragged onto the main screen with SCPD written in the corner of the screen. Roy quickly scanned the figure and nodded his assent. "Yeah, that's him. Shall we go…um…Mr Queen?"

"Call me Mr Queen again and I really will go senile. It's Ollie." The hero snatched up his bow, and handed Roy a spare quiver full of arrows. "These are blunt ones so you don't end up killing someone. I can't let you loose with explosive arrows or anything else too fun just yet, but we'll see."

"Are you _sure_ you aren't old and boring?" Roy grinned as he slung the quiver over his shoulder.

Ollie grinned back, clearly enjoying the banter with his not-temperorary-partner-if-he-was-being-honest-with-himself-unless-Canary-got-involved-because-she-would-probably-scare-Roy-off-if-she-didn't-approve. "Only as much as you're a soulless ginger."

Roy looked at Ollie with a joking I-can't-believe-you-just-said-that expression. "I am not soulless."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

(*I*I*I*)

Roy frowned in concentration as he scaled a barbed wire fence and dropped down with a muffled thud on the other side. While he could see the tactical advantage behind the two of them splitting up to surround the thief, he was starting to think he sucked at this whole silently sneaking around in the shadows thing. A rat scurried across his path and Roy fought against the urge to kick it into the upper atmosphere. Nasty little disease-carrying rodent. If he'd had proper sharp arrows on him he would've run the vermin through with it, and while he guessed he could take the rubber tip off one of the blunted arrows, that wasn't why he was here.

Green Arrow, with his grappling arrows that Roy had decided were seriously cool, had elected to go over the top of the abandoned building and drop through the skylight, while Roy was sent to go around and through the back door. Ollie had grumbled about 'feeling way too much like that overgrown, over-caffeinated Bat' who 'literally added a clause to Gotham's planning permits that every newly built or renovated building had to have a skylight so he could dramatically jump through it', which had made Roy giggle uncontrollably on their way over to the thief's hideout, because _no-one_ talked about Batman like that, _especially_ if they'd met him in person.

Roy guessed he should be frightened or nervous or apprehensive or _something_, but really all he was feeling was a strong desire to kick Xavier's smug face in, and an equally strong desire to go to bed. He came up to the old back door to the bar and pressed a finger to his comm, still not quite used to the piece of plastic in his ear. "Shall I move in?"

"Roger that, go for it."

Roy had the sinking feeling that Green Arrow was watching him to see what he was going to do. Roy was right. He also decided that he had no idea why Green Arrow was interested in him, and therefore resolved not to give a shit about what the superhero thought of his skills. This was probably a very good plan, except for the fact that Roy _did_ care what Ollie thought.

He cracked open the peeling back door and slipped through, keeping as low to the ground as possible so that he was completely hidden behind the dust-covered bar. Knocking an arrow to his quiver he moved sideways, keeping his head below the level of the bar until he got to a gap in the island. Peeking his head around the gap with his bow and arrow at the ready he surveyed the room for any sign of the thief.

There. A flash of red hair tucked down in a black sleeping bag in the furthest away corner. Roy never would've seen the thief, hidden as he was in the shadows, if not for that flash of red. Thank god for vanity among thieves.

But now he had a problem. The abandoned nightclub had obviously been completely stripped out many years ago, so all that remained was a bare concrete floor and nothing for Roy to hide behind as he approached Xavier. Being silent had never been something Roy had been good at, with Brave Bow often addressing him as 'Loud Foot' for weeks on end, so how he was going to get over to the thief to arrest him he had no idea. Roy briefly considered taking a shot but quickly dismissed the idea; he didn't want to shoot anyone in the head, even with a blunted arrow, and with him literally making a shot in the dark his chances of actually hitting the thief were tiny.

But he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try anyway. He had Green Arrow as his backup; if he fucked up, there was no-one else he'd rather have around to fix his mistake.

Quieting his breathing he took one step forward, then another, and then another, until almost before he knew it he was half way across the room and under the skylight with moonlight streaming down on him. Roy looked up as the light in front of him moved, only to see a hooded silhouette looking down at him through the skylight. Roy nodded towards the corner and closed his eyes in a mime of sleep to indicate what he was planning, and the shadow gestured for him to continue.

Roy took another step, and froze as the thief shifted in his sleep. The air in the room changed almost imperceptibly, and Roy knew the thief was awake.

"Harper." said the sleeping bag with a sleepy groan, "Dammit, how the hell did you escape the leprechaun and more importantly how did you find me?" There was a flash of movement and suddenly Xavier stood in front of him, skin pale against his red hair and black combat outfit, and a throwing star in both hands.

'Ah,' thought Roy as he drew back his bow, 'that's why he had such good aim.'

And then the fight started.

The first thing he saw of the shuriken sailing towards his head was a faint glint of black metal, and he sidestepped it only by pure instinct, letting an arrow fly in retaliation. Xavier ducked, grinned, threw three throwing stars straight at Roy and, while the other teenager was preoccupied with dodging, disappeared into the shadows.

Roy grabbed the bleeding gash on his right arm with his left hand, blood spilling through his fingers, and gazed around with narrowed eyes. "You're a bastard Xavier, pinning your crime on me like that."

Sensing something over his shoulder Roy turned and caught a heavy blow on his bow. "I know," grinned Xavier, "but I'm a cute bastard. Also, I'm out of weapons, so if you'd kindly leave…"

Roy snorted, and twisted away from the thief to free his bow. "Fat chance. Next time, think twice before you frame someone else for your crimes, you thieving sod."

And with that, Roy did something completely unexpected. Disregarding his vast number of arrows, which Xavier was crouched down and ready to avoid, he lunged forward and punched the thief twice in the face, once in the nose and once in the temple.

Xavier dropped like a stone.

Kneeling on the thief to handcuff his hands behind his back, Roy had to grin when he heard Xavier mutter "You cute bastard." He wasn't sure if the thief meant it or had just muddled up his words, but it was amusing all the same.

"Found it!" Green Arrow held up the missing golden arrow up on the other side of the room.

Roy frowned at him. "And where have you been?"

"Watching the show. Nice right hook by the way." Ollie meandered his way over to both the redheads and nudged the mumbling thief with his foot. "You messed with the wrong archer kid. And by that, I mean Speedy here."

"Speedy?" Roy asked with a questioning look.

Ollie shrugged. "I've never seen someone move so fast to punch someone in the face. Between that and the speed of your draw, I'd say Speedy is a pretty fitting superhero name for you."

Roy lit up like a Christmas Tree, his smile almost reaching all the way up his cheeks. Being a cool, calm teenager was utterly thrown to the wind, and he was almost bouncing up and down on the spot. "Really Ollie? Do you mean that? Can I be your partner?"

Ollie grinned like a madman and clapped his new partner on the shoulder in an almost fatherly manner. "Hell yeah kid, I wouldn't want anyone else. Me and you are gonna make a great team."

"Oliver Queen," snapped a voice from the shadows, "I am disappointed in you. And you Roy Harper should be at home and in bed, not out fighting crime with this idiot, and you certainly shouldn't know who he really is. You're both in so much trouble."

The archery duo exchanged wide-eyed glances and turned around, only to be faced with a hands-on-hips, heavily-scowling blonde woman. Roy saw his angry therapist. Ollie saw his angry girlfriend. Both of them saw the very angry and very dangerous Black Canary herself. They could only give her two identical pitiful looks and chorus two words.

"Oh shit."

_**Totally didn't accidentally have Ollie 'roll his ass' instead of his eyes at one point. Definitely not…**_

_**Review?**_


	4. Chaos Is Better Than You

**_Time for the kid villains ladies, gents and assorted individuals! And how to kick it off better than with my interpretation of the original kid villain, the Lord of Chaos himself…_**

**_The theory behind this is that although Roanoke went missing in the 1500's, it now exists out of time, so Klarion actually winds up on Earth at about AD 1000 because of the time travel vortex logic of the dimensional barrier around Roanoke distorting Teekl's spell. Or something. _**

**_Please review and tell me who you think the Council of Chaos are! Some are obvious, others not so much, but they're all outside the DC Universe._**

**_I forgot to disclaim earlier…so consider this whole thing disclaimed._**

In the beginning of the Multiverse, there was only Order and Chaos, and nothing else except the blackness of the Void. Two beings of pure energy, one gold and one red, swirling around each other and never touching, until one day they got slightly too lonely, reached out a tentative tendril towards one another and BOOM, there's your Universe, a perfect mix of Chaos and Order. Sure, _then_ the Big Bang happened if you want to be fussy about it with all your 'Physics' terminology, but that's beside the point. _Science_ had nothing to do with it. And if you say otherwise, an angry Lord of Chaos might hunt you down and punch you in the face. Because Klarion's just touchy like that.

He did have a right to be touchy though, he _was_ the unlucky bastard that got infected with Chaos magic after all. Okay, well maybe not _that_ unlucky, worse things could've happened. Like ending up with Order magic, yuck, how boring. At least he'd got an even better connection to Teekl and a permanent source of amusement out of the bargain. But still, being burned at the stake hadn't been a great experience.

It had all started in a dimension outside of regular time and space in a place named Roanoke, where a boy named Klarion and his weirdly intelligent cat known as Teekl once lived. The two were as close as two creatures of different species can get; where you found one, you'd inevitably find the other. They were inseparable, if Klarion was found at the library, Teekl would be curled up around his feet, if he was in bed, she would be asleep on his pillow, and if he was caught committing a heinous crime…well, she'd be right there next to him.

But in the strict Puritan community of Roanoke rumours of magic could be deadly, and true rumours were doubly so. People whispered that Klarion, with his wilful ways, constant questions about the outlawed arts and that weird cat that always hung around him, was definitely up to something suspect. Something wrong. Something forbidden.

And so what if they were right? What, like you're surprised Klarion was messing around with forbidden magic, we're talking about Klarion the Witchboy, soon to be Lord of Chaos, after all. Sure, he wasn't up to the level of a Lord of Chaos just yet, but like he was going to squander his natural magical talents just because it was 'bad'.

Newsflash: Klarion wasn't exactly a disciple of morals. His mild dislike of doing as he was told would become a near pathological hatred later for obvious reasons, but whichever way you have it, Klarion was teaching himself sorcery.

One problem: fanatical Puritans + rebellious magical kid = execution.

Only Klarion didn't quite realise that. Well, he had enough common sense to realise that flaunting his talents wouldn't end well for him, but he was just as naïve and sheltered as any other pre-teen with ridiculously religious parents who was completely cut off from any other way of life. Except most other kids weren't separated from the rest of the human race by a whirling dimensional vortex. Eh, semantics.

Everyday after prayers it was well known by every citizen of Roanoke that Klarion and his infernal cat would disappear for an hour or two, and no-one, no matter how hard they tried, could find them anywhere. Once or twice the frightened citizens got together to try and hunt down the duo and finally prove they were up to something forbidden, but they could never find them until they wanted to be found. Because as a cat, Teekl had mastered the art of hiding in impossible-to-find hiding places, and as a mischief-maker, Klarion had learnt to just go with it. Also, because Teekl was an awesome cat, but mainly because she got pissy if he didn't listen to her. Whatever, you get the idea. They were masters of hiding. And not doing as they were told. And scaring people. And magic. (Klarion was just a _little_ big-headed).

So for years and years Klarion hid out in the forest and the bottom of the old clock tower and the hidden room behind the church, and practiced his sorcery with Teekl curled over his shoulders as a purring ginger scarf. There were accidents – he burnt his eyebrows off, melted the church's bell and exploded at least three trees (getting drenched in molten sap is _not_ fun), but he always managed to pull off his mistakes as sheer coincidental accidents. These 'accidents' didn't help his neighbours trust him though; everyone in the town whispered about him behind his back and often to his face. People spitting at his feet wasn't uncommon, and neither was Klarion's answering remark of 'one day you might actually _hit_ my feet'.

Oh yes, Klarion was suspected of every crime under the…well, not sun…demonic purple sky perhaps would be more accurate. The pastor glared at him, the other children shied away, and the adults tried their very best to provoke him into revealing himself. He wasn't quite that stupid though. Not quite.

Honestly, he genuinely thought he'd never get caught.

Y'know, until he did.

On the morning of his thirteenth birthday he woke up with a pounding headache from being hit over the head, and realised he was tied to a stake, biting ropes cutting into his body on all sides and the wooden post standing firm against his back. A sea of faces looked up at him, all dressed in their Sunday best as if going to church.

Or a funeral.

Some people were smiling gleefully, others were watching him with narrow, suspicious eyes. No-one looked even a tad sympathetic.

The sound that had woken him started up again: the plaintive yowls of a cat. Straining against his bonds Klarion looked to his left and saw Teekl, equally tied up and very, very angry. Her ginger fur was puffed up, her extended claws were gleaming under the swirling purple sky and her green eyes glinted with loathing.

Klarion's mother stepped out from the crowd, her hair scraped back, her pinafore spotless and her expression utterly blank as she looked up at her only son tied to a stake. "Mother." The word fell as a whisper from Klarion's lips almost without his permission, spilling through the silent air. While his relationship with his fiercely religious mother might have been…tenuous at best, he still hadn't expected this.

She took a slow step forward, the eyes of every citizen of Roanoke focused on her and _her_ son. "You are not my son." Her 'not son' then. Whatever. Klarion didn't flinch, he was perfectly aware his mother thought he brought shame on the family. Which he did. Teenage rebellion is universal, even if Klarion was only just thirteen; a little boy with dark brown eyes, messy black hair, high cheekbones, ivory skin and an adorable little black and white suit. The only thing that set him apart from his peers physically was the intelligence that burned in his eyes and his penchant for wicked smirks. He was really just a little kid.

Who was about to be burnt at the stake.

Panic started to fill his chest as his mother took another step forward and held up a flaming torch in one pale hand. "You haven't been my son for years, and the whole church knows it. Pastor Judah has decreed that the Lord has spoken unto him, and He revealed that a demon has been possessing you for years. You have been found guilty of possessing an innocent boy, Demon, and desecrating these sacred lands of Our Lord with your presence. Your sentence is death, and you are not permitted to speak."

Klarion reached for his magic. He frowned, and reached again. And again. Nothing happened. He started to panic in earnest, eyes widening frantically as he pulled against the ropes and hunted desperately for just a single spark of magic. This couldn't be happening, there was only one piece of consecrated land in town and he hadn't thought anyone else had known about it…from the dire looks of his situation, they obviously did. And his magic didn't work on consecrated land. Which meant he couldn't escape.

Which meant he was going to die.

"W-wait, I haven't-"

"_Silence demon_." his mother snarled, and then thrust her torch into the wood at his feet, eyes gleaming with a mutated sort of pride. "BURN!"

Klarion truly started to panic as the wood began to smoke, flames starting to curl up from under the wood, reaching upwards to wrap around his shoes. It wasn't hurting, not yet, but he could feel the encroaching heat. Teekl howled at him, hissing and spitting as she threw her weight about in a futile attempt to shake herself free, green eyes reflecting the fire that had sparked her terror. Klarion made a pointless attempt to grab at his magic, and started to struggle in earnest, trying to knock the stake over or even just displace the wood surrounding him.

"BURN!" The villagers all around him took up his mother's chant, the word a demonic roar above the crackling of fire.

Tears leaked out of his eyes as the smoke forced its way into his skull, burning a path straight through his eyes. The tears ran freely and fell from his face with a 'hiss' as they hit the fire, Klarion's shoes starting to melt off his feet, the boiling rubber forcing a scream from his lips as it seared into his skin. His feet oh Lord his feet they were burning and blistering and white hot agony was consuming his mind he couldn't take this-

"BURN!"

His trousers caught fire and went up in flames in a split second, the poor quality material disappearing in a burst of sparks only to be replaced with flames that ate into his legs like a pack of animals. There was no holding in his agonised screams, the sounds intermixed with futile pleading and the frantic screaming of spells as children danced around and laughed as if watching an amusing spectacle.

"BURN!"

The flames were up to his waist now, shredding through his nerve endings and ripping inhuman noises from his throat. He couldn't feel his feet anymore, couldn't even see them through the hellish flames, which he would've probably been glad for if he had any thought in the majority of his brain other than _painhurthelpescapepainpainpain. _He couldn't breath, the smoke rising up from the wood was filling his airways and he was starting to hope in some far corner of his mind that he'd die of asphyxiation because this was to much this was unbearable he couldn't stand it the flames were reaching higher and while he didn't believe in any higher power he was praying for this to end-

"BURN!"

It was Teekl that snapped him out of his half-unconscious-from-pain state, his eyes glassy and his expression becoming calmer by the second as his body started to shut down from the overwhelming pain. His cat was in agony, the flames beginning to wrap around her tail and burning away her gorgeous fur, her green eyes wide and filled with pure terror, frantically looking over at him with a beseeching mewl that was clearly begging for his help and believing that he could actually give it.

"BURN!"

That was the final straw.

They could hurt Klarion himself. Hell, he'd spent most of his life forced into the role of the victim, unable to use his magic to defend himself but feared and loathed all the same. He'd had his fair share of broken bones, and to be perfectly honest he'd known deep, deep down he wouldn't avoid the stake forever.

They could take away his magic, binding him on consecrated ground. His magic was a fundamental part of him, it felt as though someone had ripped out his soul or a couple of vital organs. I bet you wouldn't like losing a few vital organs, would you? But not using it nearly all of his life out of fear had made Klarion largely immune to that feeling.

But. They. Would. Not. Touch. Teekl.

Something deep down inside him _snapped_.

Klarion's mind cleared completely and utterly, his focus sharpening as the pain fell back to a secondary concern and his whimpering disappearing from the air in a second. The chanting filling the town square petered off abruptly at the sudden lack of noise, Roanoke's citizens exchanging terrified glances. It was obvious to everyone that Klarion wasn't dead yet, which made his lack of screaming very, very worrying. It was obvious because one, he was glaring at them all with flaming red eyes, and two, he was ripping through his bindings with inhuman strength and floating upwards into the air above them. Talk about turning the tables.

Klarion grinned wickedly as Teekl rose up into the air beside him, both members of the duo wreathed in blazing magical flames that sent demented shadows over the ground and healed both their sets of horrific wounds. Klarion watched his legs reform before his eyes with more magic flowing through his system than he had ever thought possible, more magic than he had used in his entire life spilling into his brain all at once. It was glorious.

It was _Chaos_.

Blurred figures flickered through Klarion's mind's eye, each one silhouetted by a different coloured flame. Green, blue, purple, gold, white; all five colours spoke of immense magical potential so large that Klarion almost disintegrated under the strain of processing it, until his own red fire blazed even higher and he realised that his own power was now so great that no-one would ever, could ever overpower him again. He waved cheekily at the glowing figures, and at least two of the figures laughed at him in delight. "_Welcome to the Council of Chaos_," purred the central figure, blowing him a kiss that sparked with blue energy, "_you _will_ enjoy your stay. When whatever trauma you're currently suffering that caused you to unlock your potential is over, and you've utterly destroyed your enemies, we expect you at the next meeting. Feel free to be late." _The voice disappeared along with the fire-ringed figures, and Klarion felt a small sense of loss, a strange, almost itchy hole in his head that seemed to gape and grow with every passing second until…

_I don't like flying._

If Klarion wasn't so saturated with magic that he could barely breathe, he would've shouted in surprise. Cats aren't supposed to talk after all. Especially not telepathically. "Teekl?!"

_Yes Klarion?_

"You can…? Never mind, you can obviously talk. Um…how?"

_Magic is a wonderful thing Klarion._

"So what you're saying is that you don't know. And stop saying my name like it's an insult!"

_It practically is one. Ah, communicating with you is so refreshing, I can actually _tell_ you what an idiot you are._

The terrified silence was broken by a single, piercing wail, a baby screaming in its frozen mother's arms. It was as if a spell had been broken; the square beneath Klarion's feet immediately filled with screaming and crying and people dashing frantically in all directions.

_They tried to kill us Klarion. Shouldn't we return the favour? That's what the Council person voice thingy told us to do. _Teekl sounded slightly disgruntled at not knowing who this so-called 'Council of Chaos' were, or why they dared to turn up unannounced in their brand new shared telepathic bond. Okay, so she was feeling possessive, are you going to argue with the superpowered magical cat who was protecting her kitten? Because I wouldn't if I was you.

"Pfft, and we listen to some random voice in our heads now? Have I ever done what I'm told? The hell I have, and I'm not planning to start now. I'm a Lord of Chaos Teekl, I'm not wasting my potential on these small-minded morons, I want to do something _fun_." Klarion's eyes blazed red and his appearance began to change without his knowledge or his permission. Childlike features melted and then sharpened: his face thinned dramatically, his eyes turned jet black and his messy hair flattened and turned into two horns. It would be many years later when he made the conscious decision to change his voice into the high pitch drawl we all love to loath in the modern day, though to be fair it had started off as a joke and had accidentally stuck. Teekl underwent a slightly less dramatic change, her eyes turning blood red and her stripes warping into ancient Chaotic runes, but her sharp intelligence and chaotic nature had already been present long before any link to Chaos itself.

_Shall we go somewhere a little more…interesting then?_

"I've never been outside Roanoke, I don't know how to go anywhere else but here."

_I do. I can teleport._

"You can teleport?"

Teekl rolled her eyes. _Of course I can teleport Klarion, I'm a cat. All cats can teleport. Duh._

"Right." Klarion responded firmly, as if he knew that all along. Teekl barely contained the urge to roll her eyes, but did so for the sake of their burgeoning attempts at communication. "Shall we, um, go then?"

_You are _such_ a moron._

"Ah shuddup you stupid cat." Klarion realised he'd hit the mark when Teekl's ears flattened to her skull and her lips pulled back in a snarl.

_Don't call me that._

Klarion grinned, the expression looking suddenly dangerous on his new face. "I think I'm going to enjoy calling you that."

_I think you are not_. But Teekl knew a losing battle when she saw one, and from her new vantage point she could also see the townsfolk running from house to house, gathering pitchforks and lighting torches and riling each other up, and as powerful as they now were, Teekl wanted to keep her kitten safe and out of the fight.

A very offended Klarion floated towards her in a faux menacing manner. "What did you just call me?"

Spotting a perfect opening for some petty revenge Teekl gave the cat equivalent of a chuckle as she concentrated on opening a portal to the mortal realm, feeding her newfound magic into her natural feline talents. _If I'm a stupid cat, you're my kitten, because you're younger and infinitely more stupid_.

The sight of Teekl's portal opening up knocked Klarion's pithy response right out of him. "That, is _infinitely_ more cool than Bible studies."

Teekl preened. _Well it wasn't easy making it big enough for your giant butt, but this is your probably-one-way ticket to Planet Earth_. She looked at her partner-in-crime's face to check for any sign of hesitation about leaving the only home he'd ever known, but the only thing present was glee and excitement as the swirling red portal reflected its light back into Klarion's black eyes.

"C'mon then, what're we waiting for?" And without waiting for an answer Klarion scooped Teekl out of the air and, cradling her safely in his arms, stepped straight into the portal, never to be seen in Roanoke again. Well, except that time he accidentally got himself banished back there.

Eh, semantics.

(*I*I*I*)

They arrived in the middle of a battle, knights dressed in gleaming armour on one side, swords drawn and battle cries dying in the dawn air, and on the other stood a lone woman, long black hair tumbling over an intricate forest green dress, lips as red as blood curved up into a sultry smirk as she raised one hand, which was glowing with ethereal purple light.

Klarion only just saw this though, and only with the help of Teekl's razor sharp vision, before his own magic accidentally blew the strange woman's out. Oops.

Teekl hissed wildly, the hair standing up all over her back as she skittered away from Klarion, green eyes wide with fright.

"What's w-wrong?" Even to himself Klarion's voice sounded like it was coming from miles underwater, distorted and warped beyond belief, a faint warble of strung together syllables that was barely audible. He held out a hand towards Teekl, only to watch it becoming more and more see-through by the second. Alarm crossed his face and he pulled at his magic, hoping to use it to hold himself together, but it seemed as though his magic was going straight through him, just like the light was. He didn't even cast a shadow.

_You're fading. You're disappearing Klarion, you're flashing in out of existence I don't understand it's not happening to me it's _never_ happened to me I come here all the time are you okay-?_

"I feel…fine…just a little bit...floaty." Klarion features faded completely out of sight, the sorcerer little more than a glowing red outline and a faint voice on the wind.

Teekl didn't even think about it, which was odd for the cat, who was usually a lot more forward-thinking than her other half. Because dammit it all to the seventh circle of hell, if Klarion was disappearing out of the mortal realm to god-knows-where, she was damn well going with him.

The second she collided with the last embers of Klarion's form, the sorcerer reformed in a flash of red light, looking a lot paler than his ivory skin tone should've even allowed. _Are you okay?_

Klarion crouched down and scooped Teekl up into his arms, holding her close to his chest because he was scared (no he wasn't shut up, Klarion does not get scared…often) of losing himself and he was even more scared of losing her. Losing Teekl was the one thing he knew he'd never get over ever since she appeared in his life when he was just three years old. "Confused," he whispered into her ears, "but I have an idea. Didn't Pastor Judah use to go on and on about witches having familiars to do their evil work, familiars that were often cats? While looking specifically at us? Maybe that's actually a thing…huh. Anyway, are _you_ okay?"

_Your chest is hard, now my nose hurts from smashing into it. Remind me not to save you in future, especially by heroically jumping after you into the unknown. But I suggest you pay attention to the battle at hand, we can look up 'familiars' later. Knights aren't exactly known for their love of magicians._

Klarion turned his gaze back to the opposing sides of the battle, only to see the sorceress freeze her attempts at advancing towards him as he looked up, black eyes meeting green ones. Klarion smiled.

The woman, who was extraordinarily beautiful, even Klarion could see that, took a single cautious step towards him, her shock at having her magic banished by a child carefully erased from her features. She knew a powerful sorcerer when she saw one, and she definitely wasn't about to waste an opportunity to gain a useful ally by offending him. "Greetings stranger, I am Morgana Le Fey, soon to be Queen of Camelot, Lady Sorceress of Britain. To whom do I owe the pleasure?"

"Is your allegiance to Order or to Chaos?" There was something off about the woman's magic, something that made it difficult to read, something that spoke of restless souls and the dead returning under her command. Wow, okay that was weird. He had no idea where that information came from, but it seemed pretty damn useful. Chaos magic was getting better by the second. Teekl meowed in agreement.

"My allegiance is to myself, to my cause, and against King Arthur. Though," her green eyes sparkled wickedly as she held out on pale hand invitingly, "Arthur's pet sorcerer is a Lord of Order, if that's of any use to you. Goes by the name of Merlin."

Klarion and Teekl grinned at each other, two sets of eyes sparkling with identical mischief. "I'm Klarion, this is Teekl. Lord of Chaos, at your service."

Le Fey smiled brilliantly, and the knights on the other side of the field shifted hesitantly at her expression towards this new stranger. While they would hesitate to strike down a child, being the chivalrous Knights of the Round Table that they were (blergh, how pathetic), anyone who Morgana looked at like that meant serious bad news. Klarion's gaze zeroed in on the elderly man stood next to a young blond man wearing a crown and carrying a jewel-encrusted sword. The old man radiated even more power than the sword and Morgana Le Fey combined, the kind that was sickly and direct and _Orderly_. Plus, it was making Klarion's nose itch. Ew.

"I would much appreciate your aid, if you are willing to give it, or at least I would like to know what your purpose is here." The sorceress smiled seductively, but that was utterly missed by Klarion. He was only thirteen after all, he didn't have time for a\ll that romance bullshit.

"I'm here to cause Chaos, and if this world isn't dead by the time I'm done," Klarion bared his teeth at Merlin across the field and waved cheekily, beginning an enmity that would last for nearly 100 years, "it will be damn well wishing it was."

Teekl rolled her eyes._ I have a feeling this is going to be a long immortal life of clichés. _

"Ah shuddup you stupid cat."

**_Review?_**


	5. Music Is Louder Than You

**_Piper next, along with a healthy dose of the Rogues. Because Piper is pure, undiluted awesome. I can't even explain how much I love this guy (so what if he's not in YJ? He damn well should've been)._**

When the Pied Piper made his debut in Central City, he didn't do it by halves.

Taking out the Flash and joining the Rogues in one day was pretty good for anyone, let alone a homeless fourteen year old.

Talk about teenage rebellion.

Hartley Harrison Rathaway was perfectly aware that he was grievously afflicted with alliteration, and if you dared to call him by his real name he'd gladly beat you to death with his flute. Not knowing what to call him, urban myths had sprung up about the mysterious Pied Piper, though very few people put together the kid with a flute living under the old bridge in Downtown and the thief that'd held up Central Bank with nothing but a musical instrument and had made away with $1 million.

That might make you wonder why Hartley was living under a bridge and not some swanky apartment. If you asked him he'd shrug his shoulders and evade the question, but the truth was that he'd given away most of the money to local homeless shelters that helped to feed, clothe and house street kids. He consoled himself with the fact that no-one in Central would rent a house to dirty kid presenting dodgy money, and if he got caught by social services they'd confiscate his flute and send him home faster than he could blink.

He was _never_ going back home. Ever.

The 'Pied Piper' wasn't even aware that he'd become something of a local celebrity in the papers recently, though that was mainly because Hartley wasn't allowed in the newsagents as he might steal half the shop, and not through any lack of vanity on his part. The Flash hadn't caught him, mothers fretted about his young age, the police were tearing their hair out and the local low level criminals were wondering if they could recruit him to their own sides before he went truly supervillain. There was no question in anyone's mind: this boy was both talented, and heading for the wrong kind of fame.

Ignorant of the chaos he was inadvertently causing (even if he was the one that had originally spread the name), Hartley was lounging under the bridge in his little corner of the metal girders, surrounded by a nest of blankets he'd bought with the remnants of the bank money, a pen flying over sheet music, when it happened. A man dashed under the bridge, his chest heaving up and down as his breath steamed in the suddenly frosty air.

Wait a minute.

Frosty air? In _summer_?

Hartley's green eyes narrowed as he examined the man, and he gripped his flute in a white-knuckled fist as the pieces clicked into place. The blue snowsuit, white snow boots, matching blue ski goggles and the infamous Cold Gun, only one person in Central City dressed so impractically on the hottest day of the year. Captain Cold himself, the head of the Rogues and perhaps the most dangerous man in the state.

That wasn't what worried Piper though. Because there was only one person Captain Cold would be running from. And for the city's newest super thief, that was not somebody he wanted to encounter.

True to expectation, a brilliant red blur streaked past Hartley's makeshift home and skidded to a halt opposite Cold, who had a bag of cash over one shoulder and his gun pointed at the Flash with the other. Great, a standoff. Hartley rammed on his favourite green hoodie and pulled the hood down low over his eyes, stuck on his makeshift domino mask and crouched down as low as he could in his shelter to watch the battle. Every other occupant of the girders had the sense to run as the hero and the villain glared at each other, eyes narrowed dangerously, but Hartley had the sneaking suspicion that they were _giving_ everyone the time to escape.

Which was weird, but whatever. The musician shrugged it off and settled down to wait it out.

The standoff broke as Cold grinned and fired his Cold Gun, sending a stream of ice flying through the air towards the speedster, who must've ducked faster than Hartley could see because the superhero was already a red blur speeding _towards_ _him_! Sheets of music went flying into the air as wind currents buffeted his little home, and Hartley winced with the effort of not chasing after them, knowing it would reveal his hiding place and promising himself he'd clean up when the duo had gone. That music meant the world to him, it got him through the freezing depths of winter and the boiling heights of summer, it calmed him down when he was mad enough to murder the next interfering do-gooder that came his way and it kept him going when the world seemed like an even worse place than usual. But however much it meant, it wasn't quite worth his life.

But then Cold began to follow the speedster's path with his weapon, a huge wall of ice following in the Flash's wake and the temperature dropping rapidly until frost began to grow on the metal girders and mist went spiralling into the air. Green eyes hidden behind a shabby mask widened as Piper realised that the subzero beam was heading _right for him_! "Ah shite." He'd heard the rumours about what that gun could do to ordinary people if it was on the right setting; shattering limbs and filling people's airways with ice shards were both all too possible. There was only one thing for it: he was going to have to make a run for it.

Swearing fluently as if it was his mother tongue Hartley gripped his flute even more tightly and took off running, leaving all of his worldly possessions behind him to get frozen solid. Dammit, those blankets had been expensive. And fluffy.

Keeping one eye on the villain, and more importantly on that gun, Hartley was surprised to see first shock, and then dawning horror on the other man's face. The gun clicked off and Piper froze in sheer shock.

What. The. Hell.

"Flash, there's still a kid in here, what kinda shitty-ass hero are you? I coulda frozen him solid before you noticed!" The villain's lips moved in such a way that Piper could _see_ his accent, the words taking on a slightly peeved quality as if the villain was disappointed in the Flash.

Piper wanted to move, or to say something pithy like 'I'll just show myself out', but before he could something, or rather _someone,_ was knocking his feet out from under him and scooping him up into the air. The musician almost wet himself in surprise. He was being carried by _the_ Flash! With his heart in his mouth Piper couldn't manage an indignant yell, and he was still in too much shock to squirm out of the speedster's grasp.

It was only when the world started to blur with a murmur of "Hold on tight kid." which rumbled through the hero's chest that Hartley pulled himself together enough to panic. He _needed_ his sight, he already couldn't hear and without his vision the outside world was lost to him. So, barely thinking about the consequences of his actions, the Pied Piper began to play.

A long slow note filled the air, and Piper would've grinned if it wouldn't have ruined the music. Any other time Hartley had to put up with his stupid name, but when a flute touched his lips he was someone else entirely. The Flash slowed slightly, the Scarlet Speedster's mouth popping open gormlessly as the world around them became less blurred. The flutist let a smug feeling fill his chest as he took in his surroundings. Huh, not bad, they were only half a block away from the bridge, and Piper could still see Captain Cold in the distance, looking utterly surprised and not a little confused. Deciding to put on a show, Piper played a series of swelling notes that vibrated through his fingers, and slowly but surely the Flash turned around and began running, faster and faster, back towards the bridge. Captain Cold's expression got more and more incredulous the closer he got, and though Piper nearly overshot his target, what with him hypnotising a freaking _speedster_ and all, he did manage to land pretty close to the supervillain. Who looked as if his jaw would fall off if it dropped any lower.

Piper almost giggled as he jumped out of the Flash's arms and swept a low bow at Captain Cold's feet. "Hullo. Pied Piper, budding teenage criminal mastermind and expert musician at your service." Noticing the Flash stirring from his stupor Piper played a slow series of notes and the superhero collapsed to the pavement with his hands under his head, snoring softly.

All Captain Cold could do was start chuckling incredulously at the sight of his arch nemesis snoring on the pavement at the hands of a teenager. His laughter only increased when he realised this must be the guy that held up the Central Bank last month with only a flute, because there was no way there were _two_ people in Central who could hypnotise people with a bloody musical instrument. This was classic, Boomerang wasn't going to _believe_ this when he told him the details, the other Rogues were gonna think he'd been out drinking or something.

Cold nodded his head at Flash, still unable to stop sniggering. "So how long's that gonna last?"

"About half an hour, maybe more. Pretty good huh?" Piper winked and twirled his flute through his fingers like a baton.

Captain Cold laughter died down pretty quickly, but all the while he didn't holster his Cold Gun, and he didn't take his eyes off the Flash, perfectly aware of how the speedster could turn nearly any situation to his advantage. "You are aware that Flash does everything around ten times faster than a normal person right? I don't know if that will matter with your magical hoohah but..."

"First of all," Piper said crossly, "it's not magic, it's ultrasonic technology. And secondly..." The costumed teenager stumbled over his words as he processed Cold's information, "...oh crap."

Despite the flaw in the kid's plan, Captain Cold was immensely impressed with the Pied Piper. Because seriously, he just took out one of the Justice League's founding members with a bloody flute before he'd finished puberty, it's pretty hard to get more impressive in the criminal world than that. Besides, everyone got cheated by Flash's super speed on their first few outings before learning what the hero could really do, and more importantly, how to combat him, so honestly it wasn't fair to judge Piper on that. And so, as the executive leader of the Rogues, Captain Cold made a split second decision to save this kid from a prison term (and it definitely wasn't because the poor kid looked absolutely terrified, nuh uh, no way). "Well, he's gonna wake up in about three minutes then. There's no way in hell we can outrun him, but I can probably secure us some transport."

Pied Piper gazed up at the other villain, shabby domino mask wide and hopeful. He didn't even notice the casual use of 'we', he was far too busy freaking out over his imminent death at the hands of a furious speedster. He'd be behind bars in Iron Heights faster than he could even get his flute to his lips. "Oh god please take me too I'm too young to die in prison."

Captain Cold was already on an old Nokia (indestructible even by supersonic punches courtesy of the Flash), face set in a resigned kind of annoyance. "Sam, can you give us a hand...what no I'm not in Iron Heights already, give me some credit. Flash is snoring on the pavement next to me...remember Pied Piper from...yeah, he's right next to me...no it's not more important to see if you can drown Digger by getting him to drink copious amounts of beer...yes _now_, you're Mirror Master for God's sake, it's not like it's going to take you more than half a minute...right, 'kay, bye."

Piper was starting to realise that maybe the Flash would be a safer option than the known supervillain with a debatable sense of morals. Plus, if Mirror Master showed up, there would be two murderous supervillains around, and he really wasn't up to dealing with that, not now Cold knew what he could do. The element of surprise was probably all that had let him take down Flash because who expects to get hypnotised by a fourteen year old homeless kid? Piper took a slow step backwards, muscles tensing as he got ready to bolt. He'd only end up in juvie after all, maybe he could even talk his way out of hypnotising the hero of Central City as him panicking? Flash was soft-hearted, he might even get away with it.

"Please don't run away," said Captain Cold calmly, his gaze fixed on a nearby shiny shard of plastic mirror, seemingly not paying attention and all the more malicious for it, "I'd hate to have to freeze your feet to the pavement."

"Okaaay." Piper held up his hands and stepped slowly back towards Captain Cold, raising his hands in the universal sign of surrender. "Is this a kidnapping or what? Because I gave away all the bank money and you ain't gonna get a ransom out of me so..." Cold noticed the high pitch of the kid's voice and nearly winced. Supervillain, right, he had to remember this kind of thing, very few people would understand his threat was really a joke, or knew that the Rogues didn't kill people. Mainly because other villains would see it as a sign of weakness, and they really couldn't afford some moron making a move on Central City and upsetting their fragile unspoken truce with Flash. Still, his aim was to **–**help sounded too nice**–** _recruit_ this kid, not scare him to death.

"Not a kidnapping." The supervillain turned away from the now rippling piece of mirror with a wide but oddly kind grin. "Think of it more as an...introduction." He clapped a fatherly hand on Piper's shoulder, and to be honest that was the only thing that stopped Piper bolting when a man stepped out of the plastic's reflection.

Because seriously, Captain Cold's gun was just about within the realms of science, as were his own ultrasonics, and sure, he'd heard of Mirror Master, hadn't everyone, but it was very different hearing about what the supervillain could do and actually seeing it with his own two eyes. Because _people_, were not supposed to walk out of _mirrors_, and they especially weren't supposed to do it in their pyjamas with a beer in hand. The man had silvery hair and a wicked white grin which he flashed as he took a swig of beer. "Mornin'."

Captain Cold, hardened criminal and much-feared supervillain, rolled his eyes fondly. "It's afternoon Sam. Exactly how drunk are you?"

"Pfft, not that drunk, I only got up twenty minutes ago. Besides, I was bored, that Australian bastard blew up the TV for the third time this week."

"I'll have a word when we get back, but seriously, you're a supervillain, just steal us a new one for Christ's sake." Captain Cold turned from Mirror Master and raised his eyebrow at Piper as if to say 'Can you believe this guy?'. "Pied Piper, this is Mirror Master." The pyjama-clad man lifted his mug in the teenager's direction. "Sam, this is Pied Piper." In turn, the teenager waved back disconcertedly. This was beyond weird.

Behind them the Flash groaned sleepily, rolling over and stretching as if the pavement was a comfortable place to sleep. Which, trust Piper, it's really not.

"And that's our cue to leave." Mirror Master stepped forward and threw one arm around Captain Cold's shoulders, and grabbed Piper's arm in a surprisingly tight grip for someone drinking in pyjamas at 1pm.

And just as the Flash opened his eyes, the three criminals disappeared into the rippling surface of the mirror, two of them completely calm, and one desperately trying not to puke his guts out.

Because frankly, the Mirror Dimension officially _sucked_.

(*I*I*I*)

Making a good first impression does not involve vomiting all over the place.

Piper did not make a good first impression.

The second he got his feet back on solid ground he dashed sideways and puked his measly breakfast into an empty plant pot. He felt like he'd taken six times the _illegal_ recommended amount of hallucinogenics; the Mirror Dimension had been full of swirling shapes and foggy windows out to the real world and odd colours and random clones of Mirror Master in his supervillain costume waving at them and looming faces of people brushing their teeth in reversed technicolour and he'd swear to God he saw colours in there that don't even exist in the real world…Piper vomited again just thinking about it.

"Told you we were gonna find a use for that plant pot."

"Shut up Mark, it still looks real frickin' stupid. Now it's not just an ugly plant pot, it's an ugly plant pot with vomit in it. Shut your ignorant pie hole."

Piper himself didn't hear the Rogues childish exchange, nor did he hear Captain Cold slapping both Weather Wizard and Captain Boomerang upside the head. If he had, he probably would've been a lot less scared of the Rogues, considering they all acted like big children. Big, drunk, superpowered children, but children all the same.

The first thing the teenager actually registered was Captain Cold crouching down beside him, the whole supervillain guise gone and replaced with a t-shirt and jeans. Now getting changed _that_ fast was just impressive, screw the Cold Gun. "You alright?"

"That," breathed Piper, "was freaking awesome. Mental, but awesome. I think I'm on about six kinds of drugs right now, but it's wearing off."

Mirror Master grinned and did a little victory dance as Cold helped Pied Piper to his feet. The other three Rogues rolled their eyes.

"So Piper, this is Weather Wizard," the black-haired man nodded, looking pretty normal except for the long black coat over his normal clothes and the gold rod stuck through his belt, "and this is Captain Boomerang." The red-head by his side gave a sarcastic bow, the boomerangs strapped across his leather jacket making it pretty damn obvious who he was. "And the moron that's somehow still asleep in the corner is Heatwave." Boomerang sniggered and in one smooth move tossed one of his boomerangs at the sleeping supervillain, the razor sharp blade passing inches from Heatwave's nose and causing the man to reflexively jolt awake, flames smouldering through his hair. The villain grinned sleepily at Piper, ran a hand through his flaming hair seemingly without noticing the fire, and pulled himself to his feet.

"I figured." Piper said with a considerable amount of sarcasm for his precarious situation (it's usually not a good idea to sass potentially unstable supervillains). "So…why am I here? Because, while this is probably the coolest thing to ever happen to me…I still have the sinking feeling I'm about to be murdered."

"Well I couldn't exactly leave you to the goody two shoes, and you do have a rather considerable talent. I've never seen anyone get the drop on Flash so fast! So I was thinking, how'd you like to stick around with us for a bit?" Captain Cold shrugged, suddenly looking a bit awkward as Piper didn't respond to his offer. "It'll get you off the streets, away from the Flash, you can't possibly eat and drink more than this lot, we've got a couple of spare rooms, and if you want to we can get you a proper supervillain outfit and you can come out with one of us on our next escapade?"

Piper's jaw dropped.

The Rogues exchange looks.

"Alright, not to be the asshole spoiling the party, but he's a kid." Mirror Master shifted uncomfortably on the spot, beer set down on a nearby table and utterly forgotten. "Flash would kill us for getting a kid into the business. And do any of us want to be responsible for getting a kid killed?"

"Sam's right." Heatwave added. "Plus, we ain't exactly fit to be parents, not one of us. We're all screwed up enough as it is, we don't need to screw someone else up with us."

Suddenly Captain Boomerang cracked up laughing, drawing confused looks from everyone in the room. "He's deaf! Pied Piper, a freaking musician, is as deaf as a bloody post! This is too funny."

Piper crossed his arms across his chest defensively and glared hotly at the Australian. "So what if I am? I can understand you lot just fine, _and_ it stops me accidentally hypnotising myself. It's pretty damn useful actually, and there's nothing wrong with being deaf. So there." For good effect, Piper childishly stuck out his tongue.

Boomerang held up both his hands in surrender, still grinning widely with brown eyes sparkling in blatant mischief. "Chill, I didn't mean to upset you. I just noticed you watch people's lips when they talk, I'm ex-ASIS, I notice these things, I ain't saying there's anything wrong with being deaf. It's just ironic, y'know? And trust me, I'm a master at ironic, the fact that I'm Australian and I throw boomerangs never ceases to astound me."

Piper smiled hesitantly at the leather jacket-clad man, who winked back in return. The musician relaxed just a tad, his body language becoming a lot less tense as he seemed to relax back into his own skin. Banter, now that was something he understood. "Yeah, well for a soulless redhead I reckon you're pretty funny."

The rest of the Rogues snickered and made 'Oooooh' noises as Boomerang made the 'I've got my eyes on you' gesture, flashing white teeth all the while.

Captain Cold closed his eyes in fond exasperation. "And somehow, I'm sure no teenager could be any more childish than you. Seriously, Flash will probably be shocked by the new level of maturity on the team. So Piper, how about it?"

Weather Wizard grinned at him. "Hell yeah, we can even get you some super cool hearing aids or something…y'know, if you want…or not. It's cool." The supervillain bit his lip, looking worried that he'd managed to offend the teenager. Heatwave lightly punched his teammate on the arm, and they both looked sheepishly at Cold, who was rubbing his temples as if trying to relieve a headache.

"So let me get this straight. You're offering me a dysfunctional family, a crazy home, a room in a madhouse, a bunch of supervillains to insult me, a supervillain costume and the very large chance of getting sent to prison for committing crimes." Piper watched with hidden amusement as the Rogues all looked at each other and shrugged, lost for any words to counter Piper's points. They gave up pretty quickly, because honestly, that was what they were offering.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Then hell yeah!" The supervillains all looked at him like he was mental and the flutist cackled in delight. "How could I not! This is the best thing ever, oh my god, this is the freaking coolest thing I'm gonna have a whole city of people to mess with and being part of the Rogues? You guys are mental, I'm mental, I don't think this could get any better!"

There was a split second of stunned silence.

"YOUR FAULT!" The Rogues all pointed a finger (or a boomerang) at their leader, who simply shrugged in a blasé fashion, the huge smile growing on his face.

Piper frowned. "What do they mean by 'your fault'?"

"It means I'm the one who's gonna get arrested for inciting a minor to commit criminal activities." Cold waved a dismissive hand. "I'm fine with it, I'm sure whatever the accompanying charges are, they'll be a lot worse."

The musician crossed his arms in a huff. "I'm perfectly capable of inciting myself into committing crimes. That's just ageist."

Piper's surly expression and petulant comment send a wave of laughter around the room, and the teenager had to grin along with it. Weather Wizard was biting his thumb in an attempt not to put his foot in it, Heatwave was giggling behind his hand, Captain Boomerang was outright snorting with laughter, Mirror Master was wiping tears out from under his goggles and Captain Cold was looking at the ceiling with a massive smile on his face as if praying for help with his immature teammates.

Piper looked around at the men surrounding him. This is what a family should be.

"And you're all on chore duty."

"What?"

"Aw dude no!"

"That's not fair!"

"C'mon man!"

"But the cricket's on tomorrow!"

"I'm fourteen years old and I just arrived, how can I be on chore duty?"

Weather Wizard sent Piper a long suffering look. "I'm thirty four and I still wind up on chore duty, and I get _grounded_ every other couple of months. Trust me, you get used to it."

Cold remained firm, frowning slightly and narrowing his eyes at the assembled supervillains. "Yes, chore duty. Digger, if you want to watch the cricket, you're gonna have to fetch yourself a new TV anyway." Boomerang paused in thought and then nodded his agreement. "Mick, get the Tailor on the phone, tell him we've got a new Rogue and he's gonna need a costume." Heatwave grinned, yelled something about polka dots, and legged it into another room. Piper didn't even want to know. "Mark, Sam, you two are on tour duty. Show Piper around the base, let him choose a room and bagsy an area of the WTF Science Room, and then take him 'shopping' for furniture. _Don't_ blow anything up." Weather Wizard and Mirror Master both smirked, and they smirked wider when they put their heads together and began discussing something in low tones. Piper heard the words 'super epic hearing' and '_hear_ the Flash coming', both of which made him very happy and also slightly worried for his safety.

Captain Cold turned his gaze on Piper last of all, and for the first time that day Hartley saw the truly psychopathic supervillain that the rest of the world thought he was. "We have a code, and if you're going to be a Rogue, you have to follow it. We do not kill, and that includes the Flash and any other damn hero you end up fighting. If you do kill someone, it had better have been a you-or-them moment, or it's a revenge kill and you've discussed it with us first. No infighting, and especially no using your skills on your teammates maliciously. Pranks yes, in fact pranking is ridiculously common, but you better be damn careful not to actually hurt anyone seriously. In a fight, you listen to my orders; if I say get the hell outta there, you move as fast as you can damn well run. No purposely taking someone else's job, no snitching on other villains, even non-Rogues, unless they're gonna kill a hell of a lot of people, and no using Flash's secret ID against him, because that's just rude. Finally, if you have a problem with anything, talk to someone, and if someone else comes to you with a problem, listen to them. We're all screwed up here, but we're a team and a family, and if we can't be screwed up together I don't know what we'd do."

Piper nodded solemnly. "My name's Hartley Rathaway, but please, call me Piper, or I might have to put my head through a wall."

"I'm pretty sure we can manage that Piper." Cold held out his hand to shake, and Piper took it without hesitation.

"Welcome to the Rogues."

**_Captain Cold – Leonard (Len)_**

**_Heatwave – Mick_**

**_Mirror Master – Sam_**

**_Captain Boomerang – Digger_**

**_Weather Wizard – Mark_**

**_Piper – Hartley (Hart)_**

**_So basically in case you were wondering the Top and Golden Glider can just be assumed to be living somewhere else as a couple even if they are Rogues, because six is about my limit for writing a big group. More will be said about Piper's backstory in later chapters._**

**_Review?_**


	6. Ice Is Cooler Than You

**_Icicle Jr. Yeah, he's just that cool (hehe pun…I'll try to stop I swear…for a little while at least…). For Batman, this is six years before Robin, in case you're confused about why he's acting like a butt._**

**_Anyway, warning for Cameron's mouth and mentions of child abuse._**

Seven year olds aren't supposed to commit crimes. They also aren't supposed to swear.

Cameron called bullshit on both of those statements as Batman locked a metal bracelet around one of his tiny wrists, and the pint-sized criminal let loose a torrent that could've made a sailor blush.

The ice coating Cameron's form melted away in the murky Gotham air as the power inhibitors in the Batcuff got to work. The young boy suddenly felt strangely vulnerable and his bottom lip wobbled, icy blue eyes threatening to spill over with tears.

It was impossible to tell under the cowl, but it was _very_ possible that Batman was just a little freaked out. Crying kids were definitely not his forte.

"Now, do you understand you've just committed a crime?" Batman's growl was probably not the best tone to use on most children who were near to tears, but Cameron Mahkent was not an ordinary child. His tears dried up immediately as his inner mantra yelled _'Don't be a wuss! Dad hates it when you cry like a girl!_', and instead he further abused Batman's ears with another tirade of profanities.

He liked that word. Pro-fan-i-ties. Profanities. Killer Frost had taught him that last time she'd read him a story. That'd been before she got taken back to prison though, and that had been _ages_ ago. Cameron missed her fiercely, even if he wasn't allowed to admit it or even ask about her to his dad. His dad didn't approve of a woman being a criminal, said it was a 'disgrace' for 'such a slut to be in a man's world'.

Personally, Cameron thought female supervillains were epic. Killer Frost read him stories, Harley Quinn gave him presents, Catwoman snuck him cookies and even Poison Ivy grudgingly admitted he was cute, even if he had accidentally killed one of her plants when he was four. How was he supposed to know ice killed plants, he'd only wanted to play!

But back to current events. Cameron's tiny legs obviously couldn't move fast enough for Batman's impatience, as after a few minutes of the kid criminal stumbling towards some unknown destination, Batman had scooped him up and onto his shoulder with a sigh and a gruff "Don't kick." There was no chance of that, Cameron was so shocked that he couldn't even speak! His dad had told him that if he got caught by Batman under any circumstances, he would _die_. He patted his chest cautiously, but it felt solid to him, so he obviously wasn't dead yet, because you can _always_ put your hand through a dead person. Duh. Maybe Batman could only kill adults with his glare, because Cameron would admit, it was very scary, even if it hadn't quite made him die. Adults could die from other things too, like falling off a building or having a razor sharp icicle shoved through their throat, but Cameron tried not to think about that. It was icky.

By some sleight of hand Batman had a black car fob in his gloved hand (Cameron should know, he'd used one to steal a Ferrari for his dad last week) and when he clicked the button the responding muted flash showed up a very specific silhouette against the blackness of the alleyway. "No way." Cameron breathed.

Did he mention that the Batmobile could transport anyone who wasn't Batman straight to hell?

Awesome.

Maybe he'd see Killer Frost or Harley Quinn? They were both stuck in 'The Hell Hole' as his dad put it when he was making plans with the other villains, maybe it was the Batmobile that had transported them there? Just to get revenge, Cameron kicked the car door as hard as he could, leaving quite an impressive dent, as Batman put him into the famous vehicle and pinned him down with a six point harness which Cameron had no idea how to undo. He pouted. Spoilsport. How was he supposed to have any fun now?

While Batman wasn't used to dealing with children, he could read the you-spoiled-my-fun look from a mile away. Some of his villains did enjoy acting like seven year olds after all. "Well I couldn't have let you continue to freeze over Main Street." he answered in response to the unspoken accusation.

Cameron giggled naughtily, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and bounced in his seat with excitement as Batman started the engine. "Yeah, but did you see that car go skiddin' down the street like whoosh and then BOOM!" He made an explosion gesture with his hands. "It was so cool!"

"Three men are in hospital." Batman growled as he aggressively swung around the corner, tyres screaming like tortured souls having nails hammered through their hands. Cameron knew what that sounded like from personal experience, and it wasn't a nice sound.

"I was only doin' what I was told." he pouted, eyebrows furrowing grumpily.

"So said the Nazis."

"Who are the..." Cameron paused, his eyes narrowing in thought, before trying again. "Who are the Nasis."

"The Nazis." Batman corrected tersely. "They were bad men who killed a lot of people in the past."

"Like Dad!" Cameron exclaimed excitedly, wriggling in his seat.

"Sadly, yes."

They drove in silence for a few minutes, Cameron attempting to process what on Earth the scary hero meant, and why he didn't sound excited about his dad. Because his dad was really great! Sure, he made Cameron fight with the other League kids until he couldn't stand anymore, but that was to toughen him up, right? And he only hit him when he did something really bad, like show off with his powers when his dad hadn't told him to, and sometimes when he left him for days without food…well, his dad obviously didn't mean to forget him, did he? He said he loved him, and to Cameron, that was all that mattered.

Eventually, he just shrugged it off. "Can we go get ice cream?"

"Excuse me?" Batman didn't seem quite sure what Cameron had said, because do you really think anyone has ever asked _the_ Batman for a frozen dessert after being arrested. Even Harley Quinn hadn't managed that one yet.

"I said," Cameron repeated slowly, as if he was talking to a moron, "can we go get ice cream? Because Dad said if I froze Main Street for him and provided a good dis-trac-tion, I could have an ice cream. So can I, because I _did_ do as I was told."

"Causing mayhem doesn't get rewarded in my city." Batman stated flatly as they flew around another corner, the Batmobile tilting up at a worrying angle on two wheels to swerve between a bus and a building before bouncing back down onto four wheels again. "It only gets punished."

Cameron flinched, pressing back into his seat and as far away as he could get from Batman. The hero followed this movement in his wing mirror with narrowed eyes; he'd seen enough child abuse cases in the Narrows of Gotham to know what that kind of reaction meant. Most kids would take a punishment to mean a time out or no dessert, but abused kids thought very differently. When he caught up with Icicle Sr. he was going to personally make sure he stayed in Arkham and far away from his young son for a _long_ time. This child deserved a chance at his own life, and not a miserable replica of his father's enforced through abuse.

Still, just because he felt bad for Icicle Jr. didn't mean he hadn't committed a serious crime, and since he very probably knew what his father was planning, Batman had only one destination in mind.

Arkham Asylum.

They rolled through the old iron gates in dead silence, Batman plotting how to ruin Icicle Sr. beyond repair without endangering his son, and Cameron waiting for the demons to appear. Because this had to be hell, right? It was damn sure creepy enough.

"Let's go." Batman ordered gruffly, throwing open the car door and startling Cameron out of his reverie. Shit, his punishment. Fully expecting to die in agonising pain (because his dad loved him and didn't punish him _too_ hard...even if getting kicked out of the house in a heat wave had nearly killed the ice-powered meta human, because he'd deserved that, hadn't he?), Cameron slunk out of the Batmobile and onto the freezing stones of Arkham Asylum. Even though Cameron's mutation stopped him feeling the cold, this place had its own terrifying kind of chill that permeated right through to his soul. For perhaps the first time in his life, Cameron Mahkent shivered.

They passed by two rows of cells, male supervillains glaring malevolently from behind the energy shields at the hero that put them there, making obscene gestures and screaming at him with spittle flying from their lips. Cameron straightened his spine and made sure to glare back, even managing a sarcastic wave in Mr. Freeze's direction, who narrowed his eyes threateningly at the junior version of his greatest rival. Oh Cameron knew that showing any sign of weakness was as good as a death sentence among supervillains, and being a child among monsters was bad enough in the first place. He knew the look that clearly read I'll-eat-you-alive all to well, and he'd just about mastered letting his face freeze over and his eyes reflect that look right back at them.

Batman ignored the silenced yelling of a recently convicted Black Mask and the mad crooning of Joker as he stalked past the cages, the seven year old criminal walking along determinedly by his side. Though Batman was renowned the world over for his stoicism, he couldn't help but be impressed by the fake confidence this scared little boy was showing. If he hadn't seen Icicle Jr.'s flinch and look of pure terror before, he probably would've believed the arrogant tilt of his jaw and his smug little smile.

But as it was, Batman was _pitying_ a criminal. Which was weird, but when a child was involved even Batman, _especially_ Batman, had little choice in the matter; he'd rather rip out his eyes than let Clark find out, but it wasn't just Bruce Wayne who had a soft spot for children. It was Batman too.

They walked in silence towards the interrogation rooms, the only sounds the soft tred of Cameron's bare feet and the swooshing of Batman's cape. One of the machine gun-decorated guards beside the door opened their mouth to speak, helmeted eyes fixed squarely on Cameron's small form, but one concentrated Batglare stopped that comment in its tracks.

"Sit." Batman pointed at a cold metal chair with one black-clad finger, and Cameron sank into it with wide eyes. His dad had been right, his dad had been so _very_ right; Batman could definitely kill people with a glare. Cameron knew how to deal with supervillains, he'd been dealing with them since before he could walk. You just had to look mean, be meaner, and make yourself useful. He didn't think that would work on Batman.

"What is your father planning?"

The kid criminal drew in a shaky breath, knuckles turning white as he gripped the arms of the chair. He couldn't answer that. Because although Cameron knew exactly what his dad was planning, if he told Batman, if he gave away a single fact or word of his dad's plan to hold Gotham to ransom, he wouldn't live to see eight years old. He'd seen first hand exactly what his Dad did to snitches, and he had no desire to join their ranks. On the other hand, he wasn't in front of his dad right now, he was in front of Batman. And as the Dark Knight stalked menacingly towards him, he really didn't believe saying nothing was going to cut it.

"I want to see Killer Frost." The words tumbled out in a panic, the base desire of a frightened child for the only truly supportive figure he'd ever known in his life, but it did cause Batman to pause.

"Excuse me?" he growled, tone as low and as threatening as he could bring himself to use on a child.

Cameron sat up a little straighter on the cool metal chair, and dared to cross his arms stubbornly. "I want to see Killer Frost, I know she's in here somewhere. I'm not telling you anything until I do."

"Tell me what your father is planning, and then I'll let you see her."

Batman watched with something close to astonishment as Icicle Jr., still deathly pale and looking as if he might break down crying at any moment, rolled his eyes. "I'm not stupid, stupid. I'm seven years old, not _six_; I'm not going to fall for that one. Duh."

The Dark Knight sighed in sheer exasperation as he read all the signs of Icicle Jr. having set his heart on his decision; there was no way he was getting information now. Damn kids and their damn implacable stubbornness. Striding forward he handcuffed Cameron's bare wrist to the metal chair, growled out "Don't move." and stalked back out of the door, cape billowing out dramatically behind him.

"It's not like I can go anywhere!" Cameron shouted after him, feeling slightly braver now he wasn't getting the full force (or so he thought) of the legendary Batglare. "You absolute fuck truck."

Cameron waited in silence for the next few minutes, petulantly pulling not at his restraint but at the inhibitor cuff that was stopping him using his powers. His arm was starting to feel heavy and numb, and his chest was starting to hurt without access to his powers, but Batman had to know that young metas couldn't go without their powers for too long, right? Because not having the powers he was born with was kind of like not having the organs he was born with: painful and ultimately fatal.

Footsteps sounded in the distance, and because Batman didn't seem to make a noise when he walked Cameron knew someone else was coming. He crossed his fingers that it was Killer Frost, and not some other hero like Superman, because frankly if he saw those red underpants he'd burst out laughing and that probably wouldn't be very good for his short term health. Though laser vision might actually have been less dangerous than the Batglare. Who would win a stare off between Batman and Superman…?

And then two figures walked into the room, one wearing black and the other the most brutal shade of glaring orange, and Cameron forgot all about his superhero musings. "Auntie Caitlin!" The seven year old went to jump out of his chair and hug the blue-haired woman, only to be yanked back, the cold metal handcuff biting into his wrist. "Ouch. Fuck that."

"Language Cam." Killer Frost scolded sternly, but she surged forward all the same.

Batman stepped threateningly in front of the supervillain, blocking her path to Icicle Jr. He did _not_ want her near the kid, whether he had asked for her or not; Killer Frost had a death count in the hundreds, and the Caped Crusader wouldn't put it past her to use the kid she 'loved' as a hostage to get herself out of here.

Killer Frost held up the steel boxes that completely covered her secured hands, tapped them against her inhibitor collar sarcastically and glared at Batman with enough force to freeze the sun. "You've kept me away from Cameron for a _year and a half _by putting me in this madhouse, if you stand in my way right now I swear I'm going to rip out your throat with my teeth. So _move_ _it_ Pointy Ears." She glared up at the infamous cowl without flinching, teeth bared and eyes burning with blue fire and sinister promise.

Cameron giggled as Killer Frost sidestepped Batman and almost ran towards him, because _Batman_ just got 100% owned by his adopted Aunt. His chest swelled as he buried his face in her orange jumpsuit, wrapping his free arm as tightly as he could around her back as she carefully lifted her restrained arms over Cameron's head. '_Don't cry don't cry don't cry' _Cameron yelled to himself as his eyes began to well up '_You're not allowed to cry'_.

So instead he went for the opposite route. Anger. "You left me! You fucking left me! With him! With them! Why? Was it fucking worth it to go out and commit some stupid fucking crime and leave me all alone? All your stupid friends stopped coming around pretty damn quick after Dad had a 'word' because you were only ever around because he thought he could use you and…and…" That was it, Cameron was gone, weakly slamming his small fists into Killer Frost's chest as tears streamed down his face and she muttered soothing nothings into his snow white hair.

"Shh Cam, shh, it's okay, I'm here now and I'm not leaving, shh, it's okay, you don't have to go back there, shh, I'm gonna keep you safe, it's okay, it's okay." Batman thought he'd never seen Killer Frost look so murderous as she glowered over Icicle Jr.'s head, clearly warning him not to contradict her as she made promises to the boy he wouldn't, _couldn't_ let her keep. He nodded stoically in understanding, and her eyes softened, just a little.

Batman didn't deal well with children. Or crying. Or feeling sorry for criminals however hard he tried not to. And a disgruntled Batman was a slightly awkward Batman, especially back in the days before Robin; if you'd said to this Batman he'd be a father in a few short years, he probably would've thought _you_ belonged in Arkham. Sometimes, Batman wished his two split personalities were a little more alike; it was times like this Batman could've really done with some of Bruce Wayne's suaveness. "You look pale, are you ill?"

There was a pregnant and extremely indignant silence.

"I'm albino you ignorant slut." Cameron snapped, drying his tears on one tatty sleeve and immediately turning back from a sobbing child to a miniature criminal. "Jesus, check your facts."

"Your eyes aren't red Cam, it's a fair enough assumption." Killer Frost sat down as gracefully as she could manage on the arm of the metal chair Cameron was attached to, and the seven year old settled down next to her, his head resting on her thigh.

"He put you in prison, I should get to yell at him as much as I want. Besides, my eyes are only this weird grey colour because of my mutation. So there." Icicle Jr. narrowed said eyes in Batman's direction. Cute.

"Touché." Killer Frost grinned wickedly at Batman, managing to look mildly attractive which is an accomplishment for anyone wearing an orange jumpsuit, never mind when she has a clashing shade of blue for their hair colour. "So why am I here, Pointy Ears?"

"Icicle Sr. is planning something that led to Icicle Jr. here freezing over Main Street on his orders. I need information." Batman rumbled in his gravelly timbre.

Killer Frost turned on her 'nephew', who shrank down in his seat. "Cameron Mahkent."

Cameron had no idea when Auntie Caitlin had mastered the 'mom' voice, considering she generally despised most children and would never have any of her own, but she certainly had it down to a T. "I wanted to see you?" He meant it to come out as a jokey statement, but it ended up as more of a question.

"Your good-for-nothing father is going to kill both of us." she murmured with a resigned sigh. "Why'd you do it Cam? You know you shouldn't do these jobs for your Dad, and you know a million times over you shouldn't snitch on him."

"I wasn't gonna s-snitch," and at first Caitlin thought he was just stuttering over the dreaded word, but then his eyes started to widen and he clawed at his chest with his free hand, a flush of colour which should never have been present spreading over Cameron's cheeks and he couldn't breath his chest was seizing up and he was way too warm it felt like someone was roasting him over an open fire and even Killer Frost's icy skin felt like a raging inferno and oh god it had to be his powers acting out because he was never supposed to be this warm-

"Get that inhibitor off him!" It took Killer Frost a few moments of sheer panic to realise what was going on, and she was immediately torn between staying by Cameron's side and going over to intimidate Batman with all of her 5'4" height and unusable powers.

Batman just looked at her, face unreadable.

"Please, okay, I'm begging you!" It was Caitlin, not Killer Frost, who was alternating her pleading glances between the panicking boy and the unmoving superhero. "He's too young, his body can't regulate itself without his powers, it shouldn't be happening this quickly but it is God please don't let him die he's just a kid-"

"Out of everyone you've killed…" Batman's face remained utterly disapproving even as he fished around in his pocket for the control and switched off Cameron's inhibitor collar. No-one would be dying on his watch.

Big mistake.

Cameron grinned up at the panicking supervillain, grey eyes twinkling with mirth even as the panic and terror was wiped off his face. "Sike." Ice ran up and down his arms, the colour disappeared from his cheeks and he reached up, grabbed Killer Frost's inhibitor collar and shattered it in one smooth move.

The sound of steel shattering into lethal shards split the air as Killer Frost leaped up, super cooling her own handcuffs with her newly-regained powers until they crumbled and firing a wave of ice at Batman, momentarily pinning him to the wall. "RUN CAM!"

The pintsized villain snapped the handcuff tying him to the chair with a burst of ice and was up and running after his aunt even as Batman began breaking the ice to free himself. He paused, stricken, before whispering "The Docks, Pier 64, the third warehouse on the left." and fleeing with Batman's surprise like a tidal wave at his heels.

Neither of the ice villains had moved faster in their lives as Killer Frost froze one guard solid, round house kicked the other into unconsciousness, and coated the floor entirely in ice, the duo forming skates made of ice on their feet and skating off twice as fast as they could hope to run with practiced ease.

Cameron flinched as the supervillains lining the corridor started banging on the forcefields around their cages, pleading and bargaining and demanding to be let out. "Auntie Caitlin shouldn't we…?"

"No Cam, because if we do Batman and law enforcement will _definitely_ track us down after they get all these nutcases back behind bars. Justice and all that. Though…" Killer Frost paused as she sent an icicle shooting through a guard's hand, forcing him to drop his gun, and another through his partner's thigh, blood splattering over the floor, "I do owe Harleen a debt, and she _is_ still stuck in You're-Really-Freaking-Crazy-Stop-Trying-To-Kill-Everyone section of the Women's Wing…"

"Oh my gosh, can we rescue Auntie Harley, can we, can we?! C'mon, we probably have like thirty seconds before Batman gets out, and Harley always makes a great distraction. Plus, then she'll let everyone else out, Batman will be too busy dealing with them to come after us, and we can escape and not get blamed for the breakout!"

Killer Frost made a split second decision. Her kid and her freedom, or her friend and her debts. Screw it, she was having both, she'd damn well waited long enough. "Good idea Cam, let's bust this place wide open. I owe it to every bastard here at least."

Cameron grinned and sent an icy tendril snaking up the walls, smashing the security box and snapping the wires behind it with the subzero chill. "What," he said as the howls of enraged but free supervillains began to rent the air and the other ice villain gave him a _look_, "I was just getting this party started, and I'm sure at least one of them knows how to undo the inhibitor collars, right?"

She rolled her bright blue eyes as Cameron smiled widely and did a little spin on the ice, clapping excitedly. "C'mon then, let's go rescue Harley."

It took them a few minutes of skating through the halls to reach the cell of the Clown Princess (who was being kept as far away from the Joker as humanely possible for obvious reasons: it was kiss or kill between those two, and no-one wanted to deal with either of them), but when they got there, Harley's reaction was precious.

Killer Frost got slightly held up freeing some of her girlfriends from their cells, freezing off their collars and accepting their rapturous thanks, so Cameron skated on alone, zipping past the cells until he saw a familiar shock of blonde hair. By this point the alarms were blaring, red lights flashing brightly enough to make Cameron squint and sirens loud enough to make his ears ring, but Harley Quinn still lay flat on her back, staring blankly up at the ceiling. "Auntie Harley?"

The clown twitched, paused, and then bolted upright like something out of a horror movie. She looked weird without her classic makeup, mask and pigtails ensemble, but Cameron recognised the manic light in her eyes well enough to attempt a little wave.

"Junior? How ya been kiddo, freeze any important people lately? And did ya kiss that girlfriend of yours yet?"

"Auntie Harley!" Cameron pouted and petulantly crossed his arms, even as he sent a razor sharp icicle through the control box to the madwoman's cell. "Artemis is soooooo not my girlfriend!"

Sparks showered all over the floor as Harley danced out of her cage and picked up Cameron, seemingly not noticing the cold burns spreading over her arms as she threw back her head and laughed wildly, spinning them both around in a circle.

"Put me down Harls, c'mon, we need to escape…you are not going to tickle me, nuh uh, stop Auntie Harleeeee!" Cameron squealed as calloused fingers dug into his sides, making him wiggle and shriek as he tried to escape with hurting his Aunt's friend overly much.

"Harley, as much as you like playing with Cameron, we really need to get moving. The Big Bad Bat's around here somewhere and as many supervillains as there are running around right now, you and me are gonna be some of his top priorities, not to mention Cam being the only kid in this whole mess."

Harley grinned even wider at the appearance of Killer Frost, dropped Cameron (who only managed to land on his feet because of his training with the Shadows), drew a massive hammer from behind her back and went skipping off down the hall, skidding on the ice with cries of "Whoopsie!" and "Ready or not, here I come Batsy!"

"There is no way she could've had that hammer with her." Cameron stated, eyes narrowing in confusion as Harley dragged the four foot long humongous hammer behind her.

Killer Frost rolled her eyes at her friend's antics. "She calls it Hammer Space, apparently it's some dimensional pocket that only fully human Gothamites and the occasional Arrow Clan member can use."

"So that's where Arty gets her crossbow from when we spar." Cameron breathed, face aghast with realisation. "That giant cheater. Next time our dads get us to spar, I'm gonna _own_ her face."

A look of pure, undiluted hatred crossed Caitlin's face, but she wiped it away before Cameron could see it. If she ever saw Icicle Sr. or even Sportsmaster again, she was going to freeze them solid and then smash them into a million pieces. And then stamp repeatedly on the pieces in high heels until she felt better. Because who the fucking hell makes a seven year old and his six year old best friend 'spar', or more accurately beat each other unconscious even once, let alone on such a regular basis that Cameron thought it was normal? She'd bet her last dollar that the elder Mahkent had been sending Cameron for training with the League of Shadows, he'd never been such an emotional mess nor had such good control of his powers before. Scratch out freezing him solid, Killer Frost was going to use her icicles to shred Icicle Sr. alive, and then pour lemon juice on his wounds and roll him in salt.

And he'd deserve it.

"C'mon Cam, we're getting out of here."

"Right. So which way's the exit?"

Killer Frost pointed at the giant green sign at the end of the hallway that clearly read EXIT. "Uh Cam? Do you need your eyes checked?"

"What? No. Yeah, it's, um, obviously this way. Let's go." If he could've blushed, Cameron would've gone red from his neck to the roots of his hair, and once again he was eternally grateful for his meta powers. Freezing people was cool, and so was creating armour out of ice and the occasional mini snowstorm, but not blushing when he was embarrassed had to be the most useful day-to-day power _ever_.

Caitlin skated up next to him as he worked on spreading out the ice sheet in front of him, pretending to be concentrating too hard for conversation. "Cam." she whispered softly, "Can you read?"

"Sorry, concentrating, can't talk."

That was _it_. Caitlin Snow felt her frozen heart thaw just a little with the heat of her anger and newfound burning compassion. She was never giving Cameron back to his father or the League of Shadows, and she didn't care how many enemies among Arkham's residents that would make her. He was seven years old, swore like a sailor, had been arrested by Batman, was forced to fight with other children, trained as an assassin, abused by his father, he couldn't read and _she was not having it any longer_.

"Cameron, we are leaving Gotham. We're going on a road trip, to Britain or Moscow or somewhere cold, I'm going to look after you and teach you how to read and write and do maths and science and make sure you get a meal three times a day, and I'm going to teach you how to use your powers to defend yourself and you're never going back to your stupid, good for nothing father ever again. Understood?"

"But what about Arty? I won't get to see her anymore if we leave… Plus, she'll never beat Jade or Eric without me to help her, she's only six and they're at least twelve!" Cameron looked stricken, torn between desperately wanting to leave and not wanting to abandon the small, blonde and definitely-not-fragile little girl that was his only friend.

Killer Frost might've had a deep sympathy for Cameron, but she wasn't stretching it to two children. And so she lied, and lied well. "Cam, do you believe in Artemis? Is she a good fighter? Is she strong?"

"Well yeah…" Cameron's eyebrows furrowed, the thin ice around his eyebrows cracking and falling off in a shower of small pieces.

"Then she'll be fine, okay? Trust me I know, girls are way better than boys." Caitlin grinned as Cameron's eyes narrowed playfully in her direction, the piercing worry immediately disappearing from his expression.

"Are so not! Boys are _way_ better, girls have cooties!" Cameron giggled and skated backwards, turning a little spin as he did so and sticking out his tongue at his aunt. Killer Frost skated forward mock threateningly and Cameron shrieked, speeding up his pace to stay out of her reach, the skates made of ice on his feet throwing up ice shards as they cut through the floor. She kept a nervous eye on the flashing sirens and an ear out for the distant shouts and grunts of the slower supervillains getting caught and restrained by Batman. They needed to speed up their escape attempt desperately, but she didn't want to freak Cameron out if she could help it. But the next words out of his mouth completely threw the villainess' concentration. "Can we go get some ice cream after this? Because Dad said I could have some if I froze over Main Street but he's not here, and then I asked Batman but he said no, so-"

"You asked _Batman_ for ice cream?" Killer Frost's jaw dropped so hard she was surprised it hadn't fallen off.

"Uh, _yeah_." replied Cameron as if it was the most natural thing in the world, when even the Clown Couple would think twice about asking the Dark Knight for anything, let alone _ice cream_. "Ice cream is great, why wouldn't I ask for some? We passed like three ice cream places on the way here in the Batmobile, so really Batman was just being mean. Or healthy, which is worse."

Killer Frost snickered. Then she giggled. And finally, she burst out laughing, clutching her stomach even as they made their way out into the courtyard at Arkham's entrance, her admittedly slightly manic laughter echoing off the old stone walls and dissipating into the air. The supervillain hadn't seen the sky in two years, but she was too busy laughing to notice it, even when her powers combined with Cameron's to make a miniature snowstorm above their heads, snow falling into her hair and hanging there like starlight without any body heat to melt it.

Cameron looked at her like she'd gone absolutely mental, which, legally, she was. "You're crazy."

"Well I wasn't locked up in Arkham for nothing. But seriously Cam," Caitlin's eyes turned sincere and she wiped the manic grin off her face, "we're gonna stick together from now on, okay? Me and you against the world, what do you say?"

"What do I say?" Cameron, seven year old criminal, metahuman, cryokinetic, trainee of the League of Shadows, best friend of Artemis Crock, son of Icicle Sr., adopted nephew of two ice villains and all round cheeky bastard grinned mischievously.

"How about that ice cream?"

**_Review?_**


	7. Meetings, Giggles and Defying Batman

**_Back to the goody two shoes heroes now (I love them really), and we meet the first half of the Terrible Trio, they who will inherit the mantles of heroes (and the crown of the most annoying trio ever from Ollie, Barry and Hal, the Brotherhood of Avoiding Death-by-Batman). Tremble before…Kid Flash and Robin!_**

**_Yeah, they really aren't that scary. *dodges bird-a-rang*. At all. This is a little out of the timeline (like I kinda wanted to have Robin meet Catwoman etc. first) but this idea rose up and bit me on the butt so I decided to write it anyway…_**

**_This has all been disclaimed, right? Well it has now._**

Where was the most dangerous city on the planet? Gotham.

Where was Barry taking his beloved nephew? Gotham.

He honestly didn't know whether Batman or Iris would kill him first.

Scratch that, Batman _technically_ didn't kill. Iris on the other hand, well, he'd seen her take out Captain Cold with a well-aimed mug of tea to the head, Flash was willing to bet she was capable of taking him out as well. Easily.

"Uncle B, can we stop for donuts?"

Barry looked to his left and frowned slightly at the canary blur that was his nephew. He'd never been sure about how _bright_ that suit was, but Wally had insisted and it was impossible to argue with his puppy dog eyes. Plus as Iris had pointed out, he couldn't talk about bright colours, the nickname Scarlet Speedster hadn't come from nowhere y'know. "Only codenames on the job Kid remember?"

"Yeah yeah, or Batman with ascend from hell like a vengeful demon and give me the scariest lecture of my life for recklessly endangering myself and you and probably half the planet under his convoluted Bat-reasoning." Wally rolled his eyes, but he was still practically juddering with excitement at the thought of meeting the famed Dynamic Duo. "I think you're over exaggerating though, there's no _way_ Batman can be scarier than Aunt I that time when we ate all of her cookies and then announced I was gonna be your partner."

Flash thought back to the JLA meeting when he and Ollie had simultaneously announced their new kid sidekicks, and shivered. He'd nearly got cut in two by laser beams, and that was just Batman's glower; Wonder Woman nearly threw Ollie through a wall before Dinah just about calmed everyone down enough to let them speak. Still, Barry was pretty sure Batman wouldn't be too cut up about punching him off a building any time soon...yeah, he was still more scared of Iris.

"And unfortunately no, we can't stop for donuts." Barry said with real reluctance in his voice. "We're already late and I could really do without the obligatory 'super fast super slow' monotone line from Bats today. Also," he added as an afterthought, "don't call Batman 'Bats'. I'm pretty sure Plastic Man disappeared for a week for calling him that to his face, and he still won't talk about what happened."

Wally leapt over a car and continued running with only a small misstep in his stride, grinning in silent pride for his newfound skills. He was so getting better at that, and he was getting faster too! Maybe one day he'd be as fast as Uncle Barry! Now _that_ would be cool.

"Right so, don't call Bats 'Bats', avoid the Batglare at all costs, do exactly as I'm told because Gotham is mental and I do _not_ want to get caught by a villain there, avoid mouthing off especially when Bats is giving orders, don't giggle when he does the dramatic cape thing, don't make a bat-related pun at any point and don't question his fashion decisions." Wally rolled his bright green eyes, but little did he know, Barry himself had nearly got his feet chopped off on _more_ than one occasion for doing all of the above at one point or another. The elder Flash shuddered. "Did I forget anything?"

"Yeah. Don't upset Robin, or DaddyBats will come out with a vengeance." Flash skidded around a bus, righted a little boy on danger of falling off his bike and made it back to his nephew's side before Wally even noticed he'd gone. Sometimes it worried Barry how much slower his nephew was than him; _he_ had picked up his speed immediately after his accident after all, but Barry was sure it was just a matter of time before puberty kicked in and Wally was running circles around him.

"DaddyBats? What about DaddyFlash?" Wally pouted mockingly, clapping both hands over his chest. "Don't I get my poor darling feelings defended with terrifying ferocity?"

"I think you've got enough of Aunt I's protectiveness to last you a lifetime." Barry checked his watch and groaned. "Nuts, we're already late. Obligatory Bat one liner here I come."

(*I*I*I*)

"Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod Bruce Bruce Bruce we're going to meet the Flashes! This is almost as cool as when I found out you were Batman!" Dick was literally bouncing around the Batcave with excitement, turning cartwheels and doing flips off random pieces of equipment whilst haphazardly pulling on his Robin outfit.

A green pixie boot went flying past Bruce's head as he adjusted his utility belt and he ran a hand through his already ruffled black hair, completely exasperated. "Richard calm down. They may be the fastest two people alive, but they're both extremely annoying." Bruce remembered when he'd met (read dragged off for interrogation) Kid Flash and the redhead hadn't been able to stop bouncing in his seat at super speed from excitement. And don't even get him started about Flash's annoying tendencies. Tendencies? More like entire personality.

Dick came to a halt, balanced daringly on the ball of one foot on the back of the newly christened Bat-throne, and pulled on his domino mask. Most of the hyperactive energy disappeared immediately, but Bruce could still see how excited his son was. "Yeah, but everyone annoys you, literally _everyone_. Have you seen my other boot?"

"It just went flying past my head. Do you remember the rules?"

Robin flipped through the air above his mentor's head, before landing and pulling on his other boot. "Yeah Bats, I got the rules." Cartwheeling back across the room Robin picked up his utility belt from the bench and began stuffing it full of weapons.

Bruce pulled on the cowl, immediately becoming Batman, his voice dropping and his disposition hardening. "The rules Robin, recite them."

"Whatever Bats." said Robin with a roll of his eyes, completely unaffected by the Bat-glare that would've left anyone else quivering in their boots. "No going hyperactive fanboy, no acting out, no giving our ID's away or letting anyone else know that _I_ know _their_ ID's because they'll freak, don't let them know what I actually get up to or what I can actually do. Can we go now?"

"Pants Robin." monotoned Batman, and Robin looked down at his bare legs, mildly surprised. He kicked off his boots and danced about the room as he pulled on his reinforced black leggings, before ramming his boots back on and standing to attention, saluting sarcastically.

"Can we go _now_?" he moaned.

Batman raised an eyebrow as he pulled his own boots into place. "Oh but Robin, I was sure you had a cape?" he said flatly, blowing Robin's own sarcasm out of the water.

"Master Richard, I've brought your cape, though please _try_ to refrain from getting it quite so dirty in future. And Master Bruce, the latest correspondence from Commissioner Gordon. Everything is fine sir, and if I may say so, you are good to go."

"Thanks Alfie!" grinned Robin as he bounced over, snatching his cape from the butler and throwing it over his shoulders with wild abandon. Alfred sighed and reached over, deftly turning the young hero's cape the right way out and settling it properly on his shoulders. Robin rolled his eyes and span off again, too excited to stay still for long.

Batman hurried over, taking the police chief's message from his butler and scanned it with narrowed eyes, before nodding and handing it back. "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

Alfred smiled slightly. "Master Bruce, I'm sure the police can manage their own city for a few hours, they managed before you after all."

Bruce scoffed quietly and muttered "Managed? Hah." in a derisive tone of voice.

Alfred ignored him and continued. "I'll monitor the secure channels and contact you if there's anything suspicious. Stop projecting your nerves," he said in a fatherly tone, "Richard is a wonderful child, everyone loves him and Kid Flash will be no different."

"I have no idea how you do it, but you always know exactly what to say." And that was as close as the Batman would ever get to a thank you.

Alfred's facial expression didn't change, but Batman could tell he was smirking. "I try my best Master Bruce. Now, if you'll excuse me..." Alfred turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows as silently as he came. He was the original Gotham ninja, after all, who do you think trained Batman? Alfred wasn't a butler all his life, no, his secret identity was perhaps the most interesting of all, not to mention the most closely guarded.

"C'mon Bats, let's go already, we're gonna be late!"

"We will never be later than Flash. Trust me."

"But he's the fastest man alive?!"

"Trust me."

(*I*I*I*)

"How on earth is the fastest man alive actually slower than two guys in a car? I mean I know they've had to come all the way from Central, but still." Robin tapped his foot impatiently, stood hundred of feet above the ground and only separated from certain death by a menacing stone gargoyle. "And don't say I told you so."

"Air currents." rumbled Batman, visibly tensing the muscles in his legs and turning to face his partner.

"How are air currents relevant-" Robin started, only to be knocked off the gargoyle as a huge wave of super dense air buffeted him with all the force of a freight train. Only his quick reflexes saved him from the same grisly fate as his parents, as his hand shot out, grabbed the gargoyle's leg and used his momentum to swing himself back up and onto the edge of the building. The Boy Wonder glared across the rooftop, his gaze coming to rest on two brightly coloured figures. "In polite circles it's considered rude to try and knock someone off a building before you're even introduced."

The smaller figure dressed in canary yellow went sheet white, which made his freckles stand out even more. "OhmygodImsosorrywenearlykilledyouDaddyBatsisgonnakillme-" Words tumbled out of Kid Flash's mouth at a hundred miles an hour, and before Robin even registered being picked up he had been deposited on the dead centre of the roof and as far away from the edge as was humanely possible. "-ImsosorryIhonestlydidntmeantopleasedontkillus-"

With Robin looking around frantically in confusion and Kid Flash still babbling apologies at super speed, Flash and Batman exchanged a look. Well, Batman glared at Flash who looked guiltily at his feet. Oops.

After a few awkward seconds (which seemed like hours to the speedster) Flash cleared his throat and wiped away his guilty expression, drawing the attention of both the kid heroes. "Calm down Kid, Batman's just trying to make a point. Besides, I know Robin has extensive skills with a grappling hook, and there's no way he would've hit the ground before Bats…uh ImeanBatman, caught him."

Robin bit back a giggle as his mentor shot daggers at his JLA teammate, and held out a hand towards the second speedster. "Robin, pleased to meet you."

Kid Flash took the offered handshake cautiously, half expecting the Gotham hero to heave him off the rooftop in revenge. But seriously, how small was this guy, he must've been half a foot shorter than Wally himself and thinner than even the redhead's runner's build. Wally wasn't surprised that he had literally blown away in a stuff breeze. "Kid Flash, likewise."

Robin's domino mask cocked up cheekily on one side. "Now we've been introduced, you can continue trying to throw me off the building if you want."

The tension in the air broke, as Robin and Kid Flash both doubled over laughing, Flash flashed his million watt smile and Batman...well Batman frowned slightly less intensely than usual.

"So..." gasped Kid Flash, wiping tears out from under his goggles, "what're we gonna do? Because somehow," Wally sobered under Batman's steely gaze, "I don't think _he's_ gonna let me anywhere near your villains."

"Too right." Somehow, Wally got the feeling his new friend was rolling his eyes. "There's paranoia, there's clinically diagnosed paranoia, and then there's Batman. Besides, I'm pretty sure Flash is here to help Batman with Mr Freeze, because _somehow_ he's modified his Cold Guns to be more like the ones Captain Cold uses (probably by making a deal with Cold but whatever), and he's been escaping too fast for us to catch him. Hence the Flash." Robin frowned seriously as he related the sensitive information, but he brightened again almost immediately. "Have you fought Captain Cold yet?"

Wally shivered as he remembered the chaos of his first encounter with the Rogues. "Oh yeah, I've met the whole lot of Central's villains. Pretty much all at once actually, and trust me, you never want that to happen to you. Ever. So if Unc- I mean the Flash and Batman are going to catch Mr Freeze, what are we doing?"

"Well technically we're being used to keep each other away from the fight-" began a thoroughly unimpressed Robin, before Batman interrupted.

"We thought, as Flash was coming to Gotham anyway, that this would be a valuable opportunity for the next generation of heroes to make first contact and get to know each other, not because we want to belittle your skills. But as it stands, Kid Flash will not be fighting crime in this city until he's had proper training. Flash is only being allowed in under strict supervision."

"And because Superman is leaning on him." Flash stage whispered, much to the amusement of the two younger heroes, who both snorted with laughter. The Scarlet Speedster quailed under a Bat-glare, but Barry knew it was worth it to get the kid's minds off their inevitable plans to sneak away and help fight Mr Freeze. Because frankly Barry had never been comfortable with _any_ kid fighting crime in Gotham, trained by Batman or not, and if he could keep both protégées out of danger he damn well would. "Anyway, why don't you show Kid some of the sights of Gotham, maybe go and get a drink together or something."

"Flash, we need to go." Batman rumbled, stalking over dramatically, before locking eyes with Robin, nodding, and stepping off the rooftop with a dramatic flourish of his cape. Wally fought back a giggle at the overdramatic motion, determined not to ignore his uncle's warnings.

"Right. Stay safe you two, and have fun!" Flash grinned at the duo, and then disappeared in a streak of red, ruffling Wally's hair as he went.

"So," Robin turned to look at the kid speedster, "do you like hot chocolate?"

Wally looked almost scandalised. "Who doesn't?"

(*I*I*I*)

"Pirates are _way_ better than ninjas, they'd win in a fight any day!" declared Wally imperiously, lobbing his empty styrofoam cup at his new friend's head.

Robin ducked with a massive smile on his face, snatched the cup out of the air and threw it straight back at Wally. They were sat on top of a little coffee shop near Gotham Academy which Dick Grayson loved to frequent with his best friend Barbara Gordon, both heroes' legs swinging off the side of the roof. "Nuh uh, ninjas would own pirates' wooden butts any day! They'd just sneak up behind them and slice their heads off before the pirates even knew they were there!"

"No way! Ninjas wouldn't even be able to get into the pirate ships if they were out at sea, and they could just blow up the ninjas with their cannons!" Wally waggled his eyebrows at Robin, having long since put his goggle on the top of his head to get them out of the way of his fabulously expressive eyebrow dancing.

The Boy Wonder laughed uproariously. "You are so wrong, ninjas-" A distant, terrified scream cut Robin off and both heroes tensed; Wally because he'd never heard such pure terror before, and Robin because he knew exactly what that meant. In Gotham, no-one screamed like that unless they desperately needed help, because any attention around here was bad for your health, whether it was from the good guys or not. "C'mon, let's go."

"But Batman said-"

"Batman will be more annoyed if you let me go without backup, so let's move!"

Wally paused for one infinitesimal moment, but at his core he wanted to help people, no matter how much personal danger that put him in, so he snapped his running goggles down over his eyes and nodded as professionally as a thirteen year old dressed in spandex can manage. "I'll carry you."

The urge to protest and say he didn't need help bubbled up inside Robin, but he forced it down immediately. This was about helping someone in danger, not his own ego. And his ego would be a lot more bruised if he vomited on KF. "Sure."

Kid Flash scooped Robin up like a damsel in distress and they _moved_, Robin squeezing his eyes shut against the wind. "The roof." he managed to force out through gritted teeth, "Drop me on the roof."

Wally did as he was told and carefully set his new friend (ally?) down on the rooftop of a building next to the alleyway from which the scream had originated. Immediately the Bird popped his head out over the alleyway, analysed what was happening in the alley and disappeared with a whisper of "Follow my lead."

Not exactly sure what 'lead' he was supposed to be following, Wally decided to take a look at the situation himself. His first thought was 'Why is everything so dark and gloomy in Gotham, I can't see a thing!' His second thought was 'Oh. Probably so Bats and Rob can do that.'

Three men were surrounding a young woman in what could only be described as a hooker's outfit, with bright red stilettos, a black and red corset and terror written over her makeup-laden face. Scarlet manicured hands were spread out wide in a futile attempt to hide a young girl, perhaps eight or nine, from the leering gazes of the three men.

"Look, okay, I'll sleep with you and do whatever you want if you just leave her alone. She's only eight, there's nothing she can give that I can't-"

"But you can't give us such a cute little face, now can ya?" the man on the right grinned, revealing a yellow smile full of missing teeth and gold crowns.

"Now get out of our way slag, and I won't stab you up good and proper." The guy in the middle brandished a knife that glittered under the faint light of the moon that had struggled its way through the oppressive Gotham smog. Wally was practically vibrating with stress, where the hell was Robin? Screw this being 'his city', if he didn't turn up before this got ugly Wally was stepping in himself.

"Y-you can't, she's my d-daughter, I w-won't let you!"

"You're going to stop us?" All three men laughed, the sound low as it echoed maliciously through the shadowy alleyway. "You and whose army?"

"I'm so glad you asked that." Wally grinned in triumph as Robin stepped out of the shadows, domino mask gleaming and cape flapping in the non-existent wind. To be fair, Wally guessed his cape did that out of sheer respect for the hero wearing it. "Now, are you gonna back the hell off voluntarily and leave these ladies alone, or am I going to have to make you?"

The men froze, all three gripping their weapons (two knives and a baseball bat respectively) with white-knuckled, hairy hands as they moved to stand back to back, postures tense as they surveyed the surrounding shadows with wide eyes. They were obviously terrified of _something, _something that wasn't Robin judging by the way he was pouting and crossing his arms.

"Where's the Bat? WHERE'S THE FUCKING BAT?!" the man on the right screamed at Robin, spittle flying from his lips and his eyes bulging out of their sockets.

"Not here right now," Robin shrugged, disinterest radiating out from every pore, "but I'll be happy to take a message."

Five jaws dropped, and the little girl, who had stopped looking quite so terrified upon Robin's arrival, burst into tears. Wally didn't want to admit it, but could kind of see where the kid was coming from. Robin was tiny, matchstick thin with spindly arms and legs that looked as if they'd snap if he got pushed too hard, and it didn't help that he was dressed up like a traffic light and looked more adorable than threatening when he narrowed his eyes at the looming thugs.

"You? You're gonna stop us?" The men looked from the Bird to each other incredulously, before they all burst out simultaneously in ugly guffaws, faces turning red and one even slapping his knee like it was the best joke he'd ever heard. "With what, them little green pixie boots? Don't make me laugh."

The temperature in the alleyway dropped three degrees, the shadows darkening and lengthening until they played over Robin's face like skeletal hands. Suddenly, he didn't look so cute anymore. "Laugh? I was thinking more…_scream_."

Robin leapt forward with a speed that made Wally feel jealous, sliding under the haphazard swing of the baseball bat like he was diving for a home run, before using his momentum to push up into a handspring and kick the bat out of his attacker's hands. The Bird straightened and his fist shot out, breaking the thug's nose and sending a shower of blood over the scene, followed by a straight-fingered jab to the solar plexus and a heel to the man's temple. The thug dropped like a stone and Robin grinned. One down, two to go.

The second man lunged forward with his knife outstretched, but Robin span away from the attack with a creepy cackle and a cartwheel. He flipped up onto a dustbin and then sprang forward, catching the man's knife arm between his wrists and pressing down with all his strength behind the thug's thumb in order to make him drop the knife. The steel hit the floor at the same time as the would-be rapist did, missing a few teeth of course.

And then Robin froze as a click echoed through the alley. "Alright kid, turn around real slow and put your hands on your head. You might be a ninja or some shit, but I'll be bettin' you can't move faster than a bullet."

"Maybe I can't." drawled Robin, cocking his head to the side, "But I know someone who can."

Wally was in the alleyway with the gun dangling from one finger before he even made the conscious decision to move, the thug's skull hitting the concrete with a resounding '_crack'_ half a second later. "Man Rob, that was seriously cool. You were all like 'flip blam slam' and those guys were all like crying for their moms and just like…dude, you're practically Batman!"

Robin dipped into a cheeky bow, desperately trying to keep up the badass façade for the sake of the remaining conscious civilians in the alleyway, when in reality he was brimming with adrenaline and the excitement of _finally_ meeting someone his own age he could trust to have his back in a fight. "Nah, it was nothing, not compared to you anyway! I don't think I've even seen _Flash_ move that fast, the guy didn't even get off a shot!"

"Which is a good job," growled a new voice, anger lacing every word, "otherwise you'd be in even more trouble than you already are." Batman emerged from the shadows, eyes narrowed into dangerous slits and mouth set in a firm, furious line. Flash dashed past his nephew and the boy-who-might-as-well-be with an apologetic grimace, coming to a stop at the side of the terrified hooker and the child she was protecting, talking to both of them in low, soothing tones.

Robin and Wally shared a look. "Run?" Robin asked hopefully, taking a calculated step towards his new friend.

"Run." Wally replied with a nod, scooping up the ten year old and sprinting as fast as he could out of the alley, leaving Batman's irate command to 'Stop right there!' and Flash's yelp of surprise in the dust behind him.

"By the way, my name's Wally West. What's yours?"

"Classified." Robin swung around until he was riding piggyback, his head resting on Wally's shoulder to shout his answer's through the screaming wind and into the speedster's ear. He resisted making a 'wally' joke with a tremendous amount of effort and at huge personal cost.

"Great name." Wally sassed back.

"You're hilarious."

"Thank you. I can keep a secret y'know, you can tell me your ID." Wally sidestepped a motorbike that had to have easily been doing 70mph and kept on running, giving the wide-eyed motorist a cheeky wave as he passed.

Robin was touched, he really was, but he also had an (un)healthy amount of Bat-paranoia. He wasn't going to give out his most closely guarded secret on a whim…not yet anyway. "Do you want Batman to come after you?"

"He probably already is." Wally answered, his tone radiating who-cares-I'm-already-dead-anyway with an undertone of paralysing dread.

Robin winced. "Touché KF, touché."

"We're in so much trouble aren't we? Do you think China will be far enough away to escape Batman's wrath?" The Gothamite didn't respond immediately and Wally became worried his passenger had fallen off. "Rob?"

"Nowhere is far enough away to escape Batman." Robin murmured ominously, tightening his grip on the canary yellow suit. "Nowhere."

"Well then maybe you should admit pirates are better than ninjas before we get murdered."

"Never." Robin answered emphatically. "Not as long as I live."

There was a slight pause as Wally nearly ran over the Gotham docks, skidded to a halt and span around, before changing directions to run along the shoreline towards the main bridge. Unfortunately, Wally wasn't quite at Jesus-level yet, he couldn't walk on water as hard as he tried (or prayed).

Eventually, Robin continued the conversation. "Do you think my boots are stupid?"

"They are a bit…bright." Wally said hesitantly. "Though I'm one to talk."

"Do you think Flash and Batman will come after us?" Robin mused, more to himself than to his ride.

Wally snorted. "What, with Batman piggybacking on Flash's back?"

There was a split second silence before the pair cracked up laughing, Wally tripping over an unseen obstacle and sending the both of them sprawling, still laughing so hard that tears streamed down two sets of cheeks. "B-Batman…" Robin giggled hysterically, rolling on his back in the grassy field and not even caring that Alfred was going to kill him later for getting his cape dirty _again_, "…p-piggbacking on F-Flash! C-can you i-imagine his f-face!" Renewed peels of laughter echoed across the fields, sending birds flying away from the surrounding trees with cries of panic.

After an hour of giggling, bad Batman impressions, piggyback rides around the field and an impromptu acrobatic show, the two young heroes came to a rest leaning against the trunk of an old oak tree, breathless and worn out from their mischievous antics. They had accomplished a lot, including the creation of a spectacular list of pranks, a bet as to who would meet Speedy first and the beginnings of a friendship that would last a lifetime.

All was well.

That is, until Batman showed up.

**_Review? C'mon guys please, there must be at least one or two more of you who can drop a couple of lines? Pretty please with a villainous smirk on top?_**


	8. Socialites, Bonding and Rescuing Batman

**_And here we are again with the second half of the terrible trio…Robin and Speedy! And they still aren't that scary…*ducks bird-a-rang and sucker punch arrow*_**

**_Also in my head Roy _****_doesn't_****_ look like first episode Roy because although I ship Hat and Floor just like everyone else (if you don't know what that is _****please****_ PM me because you haven't seen the light…if you do PM me anyway and we can talk) those yellow gloves and boots are crimes against fashion. And heroes don't commit crimes. So he looks like Red Arrow because otherwise I can't write him without wincing…_**

**_But seriously, thank you all so much for the response to the last chapter, it was amazing and you've all made me super happy and motivated to write, so I hope this is a good one!_**

Dick hated socialite parties.

Roy hated socialite parties.

Both of them were eyeing each other across the room and wondering if the other might not be a _complete_ pompous jackass.

You can probably see where this is going.

Roy made the first move, disentangling himself from the millionaire's daughter who was batting her eyelashes at him with a polite smile and a mumble about it being nice meeting her, before threading his way across the room, using all of his considerable skills to avoid another unpleasant entanglement. Because if one more creepy old woman wearing way too much makeup kissed him on the cheek he was going to catch a nasty disease, and if he was going to get an STD, Roy would much rather do it the fun way.

"Excuse me Madam," Roy said as he approached the other boy and his terrifyingly attractive female companion, "but could I borrow Mr Grayson for just a moment? I promise I'll bring him right back but I simply must talk to him about something in private. But I am honoured to meet you Miss...?" Roy dialled his charm all the way up, putting on his most winning smile that never failed to make anyone of any gender swoon.

The woman tucked one beautiful curl behind her ear, perfectly symmetrical features showing she was highly unamused even as she offered Roy her hand to kiss, disdain written in her every movement. "Graves, Mercy Graves. I'm here with Mr Luthor. Goodbye Mr Grayson, Mr Harper, a pleasure meeting both of you, and I'm sure we'll meet again _very soon_." Mercy spoke with a warm, indulgent smile that made her eyes light up, but there was enough sharpness in the way she turned on her thousand dollar heels to convey her threat nicely.

The second she was out of earshot Roy cocked an eyebrow, green eyes sparkling with amusement. "Mercy Graves? Jesus, what a name, think she has a sister called Mercy Killing?"

Dick sniggered, blue eyes wide with relief. "Well she certainly lives up to her name, it felt like I was being interrogated by a robot or something!"

Both boys turned to watch the woman go, both knowing from their... extracurricular activities that she _was_ actually part robot, and a deadly killer at that. Roy was barely holding back laughter at the Wayne heir's 'oblivious' but spot on guess, and Dick was just thanking his lucky stars that the Queen heir had provided him with an escape. Bruce had been right, Luthor definitely suspected their duel identities, and while his mentor could certainly hold up his facade while verbally sparring with Luthor, Dick was much less well practiced at deflecting unwanted attention.

"You want a beer?" Roy brought two cans out from seemingly nowhere and popped one of the tabs with a practiced motion.

"Do you even know how old I am?" Dick asked sarcastically, cocking one ebony eyebrow as if he was shocked at Roy's behaviour.

"Who cares; I'm fifteen, not legal, and I'm drinking away _my_ sorrows." Roy tipped back his own can while simultaneously holding the other one out to Dick. "So...?"

"Bruce would kill me." Roy started to retract the can but Dick snatched it out of his hands. "Give that here, I won't survive the evening without it."

There was a companionable pause as both boys slowly sipped at their drinks, leaning on the back wall and remaining unconsciously hidden by the towering shadows in their much-hated tuxedos.

After a few minutes of watching the party drift by, Dick put down his half empty can and held out his hand. "Dick Grayson, pleased to meet you."

Roy raised an eyebrow but put down his own, empty can and took the offered hand. "I know who you are, I'm pretty sure everyone does. Roy Harper, pleased to meet you too."

Dick grinned and lowered his voice in an uncanny mockery of Roy's as he threw the redhead's words back at him. "I know who _you_ are, I'm pretty sure _everyone_ does."

Roy had to chuckle, but he showed none of the signs of drunkenness Dick was half expecting to find. "I guess we make quite a pair, huh? A gypsy and a rez kid among all these pure blood millionaires." There was none of the malice in Roy's word that Dick usually received from anyone who dared to mention his heritage, just a sense of acknowledgement and camaraderie.

Neither of them could realise exactly how much of a pair they were.

Because although Batman would never trust his secret identity and that of his son to another belligerent archer from Starling City (he didn't even like the first one, even if he trusted him), neither did Ollie willingly share his secret identity with just anybody. In fact, his double life was only revealed to the JLA mere weeks before Batman's was, and Bruce respected his teammate's wishes _just_ enough not to tell Dick all his secrets without a good reason.

So neither Dick nor Roy knew the secrets of the other, both forming the beginnings of a true friendship in a world of backstabbing smiles and fake friendships without any motive except finding a _sane_ companion to get them through any future socialite parties. Honestly, Dick thought most of the patients at _Arkham_ were less insane than the elite of the business world. And he was right; the millionaires were just better at hiding it.

A frantic wave caught Dick's attention from the other side of the room as Bette Kane sent him frantic signals to watch the hell out. While it wasn't socially acceptable for them to talk together as their parents were rivals in Gotham's business world, Bette and Dick took great care to warn each other when a 'Limpet' was heading their way. Because no one wants to be harassed for a marriage proposal when they're still in their teens. "Oh bollocks." Dick hissed as he accidentally locked gazes with a pair of liquid black eyes framed by tumbling golden locks, makeup perfectly accentuating every feature. "Harper we have Marleen Hans heading our way.

Roy looked up from trying to steal back Dick's half empty drink and immediately turned three shades paler as he clocked the scheming heiress heading their way, long black dress swishing along the floor and a seductive smile scarier than Cupid herself. "Retreat?"

"Definitely. This is the Kane's mansion, there's a way up onto the roof from the closet next to the men's toilets. Fancy a toilet trip?" Dick didn't wait for an answer, he was already power walking along the back wall and it only took a split second for Roy to follow in his wake. Facing supervillains? Cakewalk. Facing Marleen Hans on the warpath?

Not a chance.

The second they were out of the ballroom they broke into a sprint, laughing and whooping and feeling a tad bad that they'd abandoned their respective parent, but far too elated to actually care. "Shit," Roy gasped, "that was amazing. Grayson you're a lifesaver, even if you did drink my beer."

Dick grinned back at him, blue eyes twinkling with real amusement and the high of the chase as he swung open what appeared to be a closet door and stepped inside. Roy followed him cautiously, well aware of the threat of a trap, but he slipped inside and closed the door behind him anyway. Cold air whistled down the staircase in front of him as he chased the smaller boy up the stairs and–

_Bang bang bang_. Three gunshots sounded in rapid succession, the sound slightly muffled but no less heart attack inducing for it. Roy leapt up the last few steps and slammed Dick into a wall, frantically checking the Wayne heir for signs of bullet wounds piercing his tiny suit (_too small, too young to die_), but he found nothing.

Dick knew Roy's actions were suspect but that really wasn't what was bothering him at the moment as he quickly calculated where in the mansion the bullets had been fired from by the volume and direction of the gunshots. "The ballroom." he breathed in horrified realisation, "Someone's taking hostages."

Both young heroes momentarily froze, identical fear coursing through their veins. Neither Bruce nor Oliver could risk fighting against their attackers in case they revealed their heroic identities, and what was worse, both their heirs were missing which was sure to spark brutal interrogation. Any decent kidnapper would want terrified kids over cocky adults, and Dick and Roy were probably two of the most valuable hostages on the planet. Both debated going downstairs and giving themselves up (they were used to being kidnapped after all; Dick had been kidnapped five times in his civilian persona and Roy three; it just wasn't as scary as it used to be) but immediately scrapped that idea in favour of turning hero and taking the would be kidnappers down.

Their only problem now was getting rid of the other, _without_ raising any suspicion. Just imagining the chaos one ruthless businessman could cause with the secret identity of a hero made them both shudder.

"Right," began Dick with as much authority as a petite ten year old can manage, "I'm gonna head to the roof, scale down the drainpipe and run across the street to see if I can borrow a phone. Honestly the 'No Phones' policy is just asking for us all to get kidnapped, I mean, would you rather have some random piece of gossip be sold to the papers as a recording or be unable to call the police while you're being murdered?"

Green eyes stared at Dick like he was utterly mad and utterly brilliant at the same time. In the end "Are you sure you can climb down a drainpipe safely?" was all that came out of Roy's mouth.

Dick went to roll his eyes, but lost the effort necessary half way through and ended up looking skyward. "I'm an acrobat, of course I can manage to shimmy down a drainpipe. Besides I've done it before, I was tutoring Bette at math when her parents got home early...let's just say you do _not_ want Mr Kane to catch you unsupervised in his daughter's bedroom."

Even in the tense situation Roy had to crack up laughing. "Okay man-whore," he snickered, "you go outside and get that phone. Make sure you stick to the shadows and don't go out the front gate, but I'm assuming you're not _that_ stupid. I'm guessing you know some other way out?"

Dick wasn't actually planning on leaving; his Robin outfit was under a false panel in the back seat of the limo Alfred had driven them over in, but he _did_ actually have a way over the ten foot tall, barbed wire-topped walls. "There's a tree in the back corner which I can scale and then use to jump the wall. Sheesh, you're worse than Bruce and I thought _he_ was overprotective." Saying Bruce was overprotective was like saying the Joker was just crazy: the understatement of the century.

"Well excuse me if I don't want to be the cause of a ten year old midget's death. Now shoo, I'm gonna go peak around the corner and see if I can grab that heavy looking lamp to defend myself with." Roy gave Dick a gentle shove towards the top of the staircase, silently pleading for the boy to get the hell out of there so he could drop down the side of the mansion and grab the emergency kit hidden in the bushes before anyone in the ballroom did something stupid and got themselves killed.

"Harper, don't do anything stupid." Dick murmured in warning, staring at the other boy with narrowed eyes as if trying to sear the promise into his soul.

"Me? I was born stupid." Roy smirked, but it faded quickly. "Now go!"

Dick wanted to hesitate, to beat a promise out of the reckless-and-probably-drunk redhead that he'd stay safe so Dick didn't have to live through any of these stupid parties on his own in future, but he didn't have any time left. Instead he nodded, once, and promptly disappeared.

Roy waited a few, heart-wrenching seconds before dashing up the staircase after him. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the empty rooftop (he had no idea what he would've done if Dick had still been up there but he had no time to waste), and promptly threw himself off the edge of the building, landing with a grunt in the manicured hedge far below.

Superhero, here he came.

It just wasn't quite the hero he was expecting.

(*I*I*I*)

Roy landed back on the rooftop with a near silent thud, turning around gracefully to detach his grappling arrow from the fancy brickwork in a well practiced move.

But when he turned back, there was another shadow on the rooftop.

Roy knocked an arrow to his bow and pulled back the string in under half a second, knees bending slightly in readiness for combat and domino mask narrowing threateningly. "Whoever you are," he growled, "I am not in the mood right now, so step out of the shadows with your hands in the air and I won't fill you full of holes."

"Wow Speedy, threatening a guy in his own city. Between you and KF I don't know whose greeting methods are ruder." A lithe form stepped out of the shadows with a bright white grin, a collection of bird-a-rangs clutched in one hand with the other raised in a mocking surrender. Messy black hair fell over a domino mask that was crinkled with amusement, a canary yellow and black cape was draped over muscled shoulders and a utility belt was slung around a tiny waist.

"Robin." Speedy sighed, lowering his bow only slightly. The Bat's brat, great, just what he needed right now. "What are you doing here?"

"Stopping a hostage sitch in my own city?" Robin flashed a grin that was all knives and no humour. "I think a better question is what _you're_ doing here. Also where GA is because he owes me a hotdog, but that's not quite relevant right now."

Roy opened his mouth to deliver what promised to be a scathing answer, but then realisation hit him like a ton of bricks to the back (yes, he knew what that felt like from experience) and he quietly closed it again. Call Roy what you like: rude, loud, arrogant, touchy, violent, but you can't call him stupid.

There was absolutely nothing similar between Dick Grayson and Robin, no real solid material connection between the two. The hair was different; Dick's had been flat and orderly where as Robin's was messy and all over the place…exactly like he'd swiftly run his hands through it. Dick, while not a cowering mess, hadn't had the same confident stance as Robin…the exact same kind of confidence Roy gained when he stuck on his own mask. Robin spoke with a much rougher, deeper tone than the soft, almost musical way Dick spoke…but vocal training could easily manage that. Robin seemed taller, older, stronger, more confident and just utterly _different_ to Dick. Frankly, if Roy hadn't been slapped around the face with the giant coincidence of the situation he would never have guessed in a million years.

Behind his mask Dick's eyes widened. The answer to what Speedy was doing in his city smashed him in the face like a sucker punch arrow (thanks for _that_ experience Green Arrow). "Harper?"

"Oh fucking hell you're Dick Grayson." Roy's jaw dropped so hard he wouldn't have been surprised if it had fallen off his face. "Wait, but if you're…then Batman's…no way…"

The eyes of Robin's mask narrowed, and then he let out an extraordinarily creepy cackle. "I knew it! I knew I'd seen Queen's stupid moustache before! I mean I kinda thought GA's moustache was stick on, but apparently not… I can't believe he actually lives out his day to day life with that on his face, it just looks…" Robin shrugged as if he couldn't find enough derogatory words to describe the archer's moustache.

Roy picked his jaw back up off the floor and snorted quietly. "Yeah, that moustache is _really_ stupid."

The two boys stared at each other, minds whirring almost audibly as they thought over their newfound information. Not one, but two seemingly stuck up, stupid, playboy billionaires hiding their heroic escapades under watertight façades? It was a little hard to swallow, but then again, in a world where it was acceptable to run about in tights and a cape kicking the asses of cheesily-named villains in the middle of the night, nothing was that shocking for long.

"Okay, right, we need to move; there are civilians down there and us two standing around like a pair of gormless idiots isn't going to save anyone's ass." Robin turned to dash down the stairs but was stopped by Speedy's hand on his shoulder.

"I don't know who you are, okay?" The archer nodded his head meaningfully. "I really don't need a pissed off DaddyBats coming after me for putting you in danger or whatever. Gosh," Roy clapped his hand to his chest sarcastically, "anyone would think he didn't trust us."

"Pfft, I'm perfectly aware you could keep my name a secret under torture, I trust you man."

"You met me five minutes ago."

Robin shrugged. "Hey, I'm fighting the Bat-paranoia urge to smack you so hard in the head you end up with amnesia, so let's not mention that, okay? Besides, I _definitely_ don't know who you are either. I'm also _definitely_ not going to reveal I know Queen's double life at a really inappropriate moment, and I'm _absolutely 100% definitely_ not going to pretend I was smart enough to randomly figure it out on my own simply to freak him out." Robin hummed sarcastically, mischief written in every line of his body.

"I might _definitely not_ do the same." Roy thought about Batman's reaction to such a revelation and quickly rethought his idea. "Y'know, if I'm three solar systems away with an armada between me and Earth, and Batman's locked in a nuclear bunker with your entire gallery of villains and a horny Catwoman. And he's completely immobilised. And unconscious. And has two broken legs. Actually, probably not even then."

Robin cackled, the creepy sound echoing down the staircase like Satan's doorbell had learnt to laugh. "Too right. Now seriously let's go, we can deal with the banter later; we need to get this place out-filtrated before someone gets themselves hurt."

As they disappeared down the stairs, footsteps silent even on the white marble, Roy's voice floated back up towards the stars. "Out-filtrated? What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

His only response was another of those cackles.

He already hated that cackle.

(*I*I*I*)

The men were tall, well-built, ex-military, organised and extremely violent. Already Luthor's bodyguard Mercy was on the floor in a pool of blood, her head smashed in beyond repair and a shocked expression splayed across her perfect features. At lot of screaming had occurred after that happened, but Bruce wasn't going to waste his breath; he could clearly see the gears hidden under her skin, and it would probably take Luthor half a day to repair her, if that.

His heart was bleeding for Luthor, really it was.

As the three richest men in the room, Luthor, Queen and himself were handcuffed together in a line in the middle of the room with enough weaponry pointed at them to arm a small country. And, as usual, Queen couldn't resist opening his mouth.

Bruce winced as he felt blood splatter against his cheek and heard Oliver spit blood out of his mouth, hacking and coughing and never stopping smiling. "Where's your ward?" the man in charge snarled, fist drawn back in preparation to rain down a few more punches on the blond man with a pistol pointed at his target in case he tried to hit back.

"Screw you," the archer grinned, blood spilling through his teeth, "he's outta here and away from you psychos. You can do what the fuck you like to me, I ain't telling you squat."

"He's not going to tell you anything," drawled Luthor, raising his eyes heavenward like this was the most trivial thing to ever happen to him and his assistant hadn't had her brains (wires) blown out mere minutes before. "I'm the most intelligent man on the planet, it wouldn't do you harm to listen to me."

Oliver tensed almost imperceptibly on his right and Bruce, in the middle of the trio, fought the exceedingly powerful urge to headbutt Luthor in his stupid smug face. It was obvious that Queen, however moronically self-sacrificing the idea was, was riling up the kidnappers and taking the beating so that at least one of the heroes present would be in a state to fight if it really came down to it. And when this was over, Bruce was going to thump the archer for acting like the Boy Scout; eventually Luthor would've opened his mouth and then Bruce would've had the considerable pleasure of watching the supervillain get his ass kicked.

"Oh really?" The mercenary stepped away from Oliver, who immediately opened his mouth to regain the man's attention, but Bruce quickly nudged him in the side and gave him a look that plainly read 'shut up'. "Do go on Mr Luthor, it would be far beyond the likes of me and mine not to listen to you." Sarcasm dripped from the man's words and his men, all hardened thugs spaced out around the room and currently occupied stripping the jewellery and wallets from the terrified millionaires, laughed as if on cue.

Bruce felt Luthor stiffen and bit back a smirk. If there was one thing Luthor hated more than superheroes (or those he suspected to be heroes), it was being mocked by people he considered intellectually inferior. Which was everyone. "Never mind, ex-Staff Sergeant Oliver Holder formerly of the US military, it would seem I don't know anything that would be of value to you."

Suddenly, Bruce didn't feel like smiling so much anymore as the mercenary whipped around, brown eyes lit with furious fire as he jabbed his pistol straight in Luthor's face, the cold metal barrel pressed deep into the man's cheek. If Bruce died saving Luthor's villainous, ungrateful ass, he was going to haunt a batarang and chase the supervillain around with it for the rest of his un-life. "I suggest you shut your trap rich boy, before I blow it out of your goddamn mouth. You and me are gonna be spending some quality time together over the next couple of hours, considering you don't have a little rich brat to ransom, so after we finish up here with Wayne and Queen telling us _exactly_ where they've hidden their charity cases, we'll be leaving together. And I can't say you'll find the experience as entertaining as I will."

Before the goons could break into laughter again (honestly, they sounded like a broken laugh track, and it was really grating on Bruce's nerves), a distant cackle sounded, echoing through the cold halls of the Kane's mansion and causing everyone in the room to seize with fear. Those in the know started to smile in relief and murmur amongst themselves, but the mercenaries obviously weren't Gothamites, so they didn't recognise the call of the Bird.

"What the hell was that?" Holder yelled, sweeping around the room to glare at one of his men, a slightly smaller man who shrank backwards under the force of the glare. "I thought you said the Joker and his bitch are in Arkham?"

"They are Boss, I swear it! I hacked the records myself and even took a peek at the video feeds to double check… It must be the Bat!"

"You think the Bat laughs? Are you a fucking imbecile?" Holder swung round and stalked over to his man, screaming abuse in his ear and waving his pistol dangerously close to the face of one of the terrified young heiresses crouched at his feet. "The world would have to end before Batman would laugh!"

"That is very true." Luthor mumbled under his breath.

"And how would you know?" Oliver snapped, his dislike for the man finally overpowering the Batglare that was strongly encouraging him to keep his mouth shut. Blood dripped onto the white marble floor as the archer whipped his head around to narrow stormy green eyes at the bald man. "Hang around with Batman in your spare time?"

"No," Luthor murmured smugly, grey eyes tracking every movement in the room with pin point precision, "but I'd suggest you do."

"For the last time Luthor," Ollie hissed, yanking his handcuffed hands to jolt both of the other men attached to the chain, "I am not some moron that runs around in tights and a cape!"

A shift in the shadows caught Bruce's eye and he inclined his head, catching the attention of the two arguing men. "But he is."

And then the world exploded.

(*I*I*I*)

"I severely object to getting a lecture because we saved _both_ your asses _and_ everyone else's with zero causalities, _and_ 'accidentally' knocked Luthor unconscious, and-"

"I _severely_ object to you using so many ands in one sentence."

"Shut _up_ Speedy!"

"Never. Not until Batman stops Batglaring holes through my head anyway."

"He's Batman, he never stops Batglaring, that's like 90% of the point!"

Ollie couldn't help it, he had to giggle at the banter flashing between his son, who was obviously suppressing an adrenaline-fuelled grin, and Robin, who was too young to worry about being uncool and was simply beaming at anyone and anything in sight; but mainly, he was laughing at Batman, who looked as though he couldn't decide who to glare at for maximum effect. And then he seriously regretted laughing as his bruised jaw throbbed, sending spikes of agony up the side of his face and he had to press the bag of ice to his face with a stifled groan.

Roy's gaze flicked over to his mentor, face pinched with concern under his domino mask as he scanned the Emerald Archer's numerous blooming bruises and fractured bones, but Green Arrow quickly waved him off, far preferring Roy to make friends with one of the other kids in the business than waste time worrying over him. Unlike Flash or even Batman, Ollie wasn't pretending to be naïve of the fact that one day Roy would want to spread his wings and leave Starling City behind him; all that Ollie could hope for was that Roy would take his friends with him when he left, and that they'd keep each other safe.

"Quiet." Batman growled, the sound reverberating through the shadows at the side of the Kane mention as police sirens flashed red and blue on the other side of the grounds. "While your skills were impressive and your execution of the plan was neat and well-timed, the _nature_ of your plan, if you can even call it a plan, was foolhardy-"

"With all due respect," Roy rumbled with absolutely no respect in his voice, "no-one died, no-one except Green Arrow got injured, your kid has a new BFF," Robin bounced off the ten foot wall as if on cue and slung his arms around Roy's shoulders, "and I 'accidentally' knocked Luthor unconscious with that boxing glove arrow. You have to admit, his face when he woke up was pretty damn funny."

"Robin, we're leaving." With a last narrowing of his eyes in Roy's direction as if warning him to never put Robin in danger again with another holy-crap-what-do-we-do-I-have-no-idea-let's-just-throw-projectiles-everywhere plan, the Bat turned and strode off into the shadows with his cape billowing dramatically behind him.

Rolling his eyes Robin slammed Roy into a hug, his head only just reaching the redhead's chest, before disappearing along with his mentor before Roy even had time to shake off his shock and hug Robin back.

"They do that a lot, you'd better get used to it."

Roy narrowed his eyes at his reckless partner, completely disregarding the fact he would've done the same thing in a similar situation. "Like I've got used to you getting yourself beaten up? Come here, let me look at that arm."

Ollie snatched his arm away from Roy's demanding hand like a petulant kid, a real pout pulling at his mouth. "I said quit it Roy, I'm fine, honestly."

"Ha, Canary would never believe that and I won't either." Roy felt smug for all of half a second before what he'd just said snapped into place. "Canary." he whispered, aghast.

"She's gonna have seen this on the news," Ollie whispered back, horror creeping into his voice, "and I haven't rung her to say we're okay-"

"And _I_ haven't rung her to say we're okay…" The two archers looked at each other, eyes wide and jittering about in panic. "Let's get to the car."

"You're ringing her." Ollie half demanded, half pleaded. "I don't want to get canary-called while I'm driving at 200mph."

"Ollie!" Roy complained. "That's so not fair, I did a damn good job tonight."

"You did." Ollie smiled proudly at his ward and ruffled his hair, making the redhead groan and duck out from under his hand with a perfect teenage I-hate-you-so-much glare. "Figuring out Batman and Robin's IDs too, that was pretty damn impressive. I'm proud of you."

Roy didn't even try to counter the claim as a warm feeling built up in his chest; Ollie never treated him like he was stupid, and he preferred to return the favour by not lying to his mentor's face. "So if you're proud of me…does that mean you'll call Canary?"

"Only because I love you kid, only because I love you."

And Roy, for perhaps the first time in his life, didn't feel stupid when he replied "I love you, too."

**_Okay so this story is going on hold for a week or two, or even three. I know it sucks and I'm sorry, but school work is spiralling and I _****have****_ to get to work on one of my other fics before I get murdered. I feel even worse after the amazing response to the last chapter, but I have to switch priorities…anyway I hope you liked the chapter. Review?_**


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